Music of the Night
by Your Favorite Worst Dream
Summary: AU. Phantom of the Opera with all the characters we know and love from Twilight. Full summary in profile. Rated T just in case.
1. Prologue: The Music Box

**This is a _Twilight_/_Phantom of the Opera_ crossover. Tell me what you think about it.**

**Disclaimer: Sadly I don't own _Twilight_ or _Phantom of the Opera_. _Sigh._**

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Prologue:

The Music Box

Paris, 1919

The aging vicomte de Black was wheeled across the leaf strewn entrance of the dilapidated Forks opera. Though dirtied by time and blackened of the decades gone fire he remembered so clearly, the opera house looked just as he remembered it. The vicomte could imagine the elegant ladies and gentlemen filing through the ushered doors towards their seats. He could see their excited faces as the lights dimmed and the music began. But now…

Now Forks was nothing but a ghost of itself, and all the things he wanted to see again and all the voices he wanted to hear so badly were gone. _Forever_. Jacob Black was as much a ghost of his former self as the opera house was.

The fluttering banners hung on the opera's walls pronounced that there was an auction of items found within the walls of Forks. The vicomte de Black was not quite sure as to why he came. He was quite old at sixty-seven, but he was positive senility had nothing to do with his choice. He just wanted to see _her_.

But that was impossible, so he must settle with things that remind him of her.

She had loved this opera house. Jacob suspected it was not only because it became her home after her father died, but that it had something to do with who resided in the opera with her. The man in the shadows who the vicomte had done everything he could do to prevent from taking his darling. And he had failed.

His nurse broke him out of his reverie by tapping him on the shoulder. "The item you want is now being auctioned, vicomte," she spoke softly in his ear. Jacob nodded and focused on the platform that had been set up specifically for this occasion. A poster had just been sold to a young man to his left, and a new object was being brought up.

"Now," the auctioneer began, "we have lot forty-two, a music box adorned with the sculptures of a lion and a lamb. In working order too! See?" He demonstrated by turning the knob on the side of the box with some effort. The box had not been used in many years.

A haunting melody slowly sounded from the small box. It became louder and louder until it echoed across the walls of the opera house. _So beautiful_, Jacob thought. _Just as she described it to be._

"Shall we," the auctioneer cried over the noise of the music box, "start the bidding at thirty francs?"

The vicomte de Black raised his hand, and waited for someone to offer another bid, but none came. He glanced around and was shocked to see that no one held any interest for it, the little music box that held so much of his past, and so much of his sorrow.

The auctioneer gestured to Jacob. "Going once…Going twice…Sold, to the elderly man in the wheelchair!"

His nurse walked to the platform to retrieve his win. When she came back she set it gently in his lap. "Here it is vicomte. What a strange box, I've never seen one like it," she spoke in the soft voice that Jacob had become accustomed to.

The vicomte did not answer back, for he was to busy staring at the figurines. A lion and a lamb. Jacob twisted the knob and let the sad melody wash over him. _It was his_, the vicomte thought suddenly. _It was his present to_ _her_.

He clutched the box to his stomach and let the pain of her loss wash over him, remembering. He could not push back the on slot of memories that rushed at him. Especially her face, her beautiful face.

Jacob was unaware as the auctioneer went on about lot forty-three, the chandelier that had been destroyed on the night of the fire. The night he lost _her_. It had been refitted with electric lights and fixed from the damage of it's fall. Several men pulled on attached ropes and the chandelier rose to the ceiling.

The vicomte de Black looked up and was transported to the Paris of his youth. When he was eighteen and in love with the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

It had all started with music.


	2. Under New Management

**Wow, I never really expected anyone would like this. Thank you for your kind reviews and tell me what you think of this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I did own _Twilight_ and _Phantom of the Opera_, but then I woke up and realized it was all a dream. _Sob._**

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Under New Management

Paris, 1870

Jessica was on a rampage.

This was to be expected as an everyday event that you could practically set your watch on. Usually after the lunch break, but before her late night frenzy. Only this time it was worse. This time Jessica was threatening to quit, and, she claimed, she actually meant it.

The reason for today's monumental ferocity was because "some blundering, thick-headed oaf," as she so lovingly put it, had said the opera she had a lead role in was starring Jessica Stanley. This was bad on the "oaf's" part because she had been insisting for quite some time that her name was actually La Carlotta. Jessica thought that being named as such, people, namely her audience, would think she was Spanish. In her mind, being foreign would set her apart from the other French girls around her. She would be different. Special.

The only drawback from her plan was that Jessica could by no means be mistaken for Spanish with her pale complexion, light eyes and lack of accent, but that didn't mean she couldn't try. And try she did. Jessica didn't know how to speak Spanish, nor was she an acquaintance with anyone from Spain, but she thought if she rolled her R's and called people Senor, she would immediately be placed as an intelligent and talented world traveler.

In reality, it placed her as a vapid and annoying diva.

"I work and I work and I work, but does anyone care? No!" she shrieked. "Without me, there would be no Forks! I am the only one that can act! I am the only one that can sing! I _am_ Forks! Ugh! My name is _La Carlotta_! Not the plain Jessica Stanley! LA CARLOTTA!" The rest of it went in a similar fashion.

At a safe distance, chorus girls Bella and Alice looked amused. They knew as well as anyone else that Jessica didn't really care as much as she let on. Jessica just wanted to be consoled by the handsome owner of the opera, Carlisle Cullen. She had been after the happily married man since she came here, shamelessly throwing herself at him and his money.

"How am I supposed to act as Jessica Stanley?" she continued as she discovered throwing things in her rage added a nice theatrical note that she quite enjoyed. "There is no way _Jessica Stanley_ could be in the play _Hannibal_!" _Gong_, a platter dish went flying across the stage and into the wall. "But _La Carlotta_ is a very talented actress who can bring life to the play!"_ Slam_, a musician's music stand went plunging toward the floor. "So, since I'm LA CARLOTTA, I should be named as such on the poster!" _Crash, _the pitcher containing her water collided with…Monsieur Cullen.

000

Carlisle did not know why everyone was staring at him so oddly. "La Carlotta" had been the one to throw something, not him.

But then he looked down and found his pant legs to be in ruins. The glass from the pitcher had cut through the suit his dear wife Esme had bought for him, showing his pale, _uncut_, skin. Realizing he should be bleeding, Carlisle doubled over and covered the would-be wounds with a nearby scrap of cloth. He quickly tied it around his leg like a bandage and acted as though he was in pain. When he straightened up, he put a hand up to stop Jessica's string of hardly meant apologies.

"Please, Mademoiselle _Stanley_," he stressed. He had a slight bit of pleasure at seeing her repentant, make-up smeared face twist with annoyance. "It is unnecessary. I am alright, see?" He gestured toward himself and noticed with disapproval how Jessica's eyes lingered where they should not.

"I have," Carlisle started the speech he had mentally prepared before he got to the opera house. "I have come here to announce something rather important. I am selling the Forks Opera House to these two men behind me, Monsieur Andre Banner and Monsieur Firmin Clapp." He signaled for the new owners to step ahead.

Though they were thoroughly disappointed by their kind owner leaving, the employees of Forks clapped politely, if not somewhat reluctantly. Bella was particularly depressed; Carlisle had not only given her a home when Charlie had died all those years ago, but he had looked after her and helped her when she fell down. Which was a lot. She may be a chorus girl, but when she wasn't dancing she was falling. Monsieur Cullen had fixed many of her cuts and scrapes. She had always told him he ought to be a doctor.

Bella leaned over to her friend Alice. "What a pity. It will be a lot different without him around anymore."

Alice only nodded distractedly. She was not as saddened by the thought of Carlisle Cullen leaving as she was about his adopted son, Monsieur Hale, leaving. She had only had the chance to talk to him a few times when he rarely visited, but she had had one of her "feelings" about him. She was sure that stay longer for…what? _Not you of course_, Alice mentally reprimanded herself. _Definitely not you. Why would he want to stay for a skinny little chorus girl? He's handsome and rich and kind and sweet and- Stop thinking about him! _So Alice focused on what Carlisle was saying.

"I may be leaving," Carlisle began, "but my son is staying on as a manager. Jasper will be a great use to you Monsieur Clapp and Monsieur Banner. He knows the ins and outs of the opera house and can advise you on how to deal with the more…" he stared pointedly at Jessica, "_difficult_ performers."

It is then that Mademoiselle Stanley realized she had not been the center of attention for quite some time. She rallied her spirits over the loss of Monsieur Cullen and started berating the new owners. It was her way of a welcome. "Senor Cullen!" she cried. "You cannot expect to leave me here with these... unqualified men, can you?" She looked up to Carlisle with what she thought was a look of pure seduction, all batty eyes and pursed lips. Carlisle thought she looked diseased.

Monsieur Cullen glared down at Jessica and stated matter-of-factly, "No, they seem well qualified to work with you. I believe they deal in junk, is it not?" Carlisle left before he heard their answer, but he did hear Mademoiselle Stanley's cry of indignation.

"Scrap metal… Monsieur Cullen…" Monsieur Banner called weakly after Carlisle's retreating figure. He took a deep breath, snuck a look at Monsieur Clapp's equally frightened face, and turned his attention to the raging "La Carlotta."

000

Bella smiled at Alice's expression of pure delight. Mademoiselle Swan had known for a very long time of Alice's affections for Monsieur Hale. And, Bella believed, those feeling were returned. It was hard not to notice Jasper watching Alice as Monsieur Cullen declared he was staying. Jasper was grinning almost as widely as Alice.

Bella was brought out of her thoughts when Carlisle approached her with his family. She had known them only fleetingly, but thought that they were some of the most honorable people she could have ever met and they had become friends.

"Mademoiselle Swan," cooed Madame Cullen, Carlisle's lovely wife. "I will miss you! You were always such a sweet girl!" Esme stepped forward to hug Bella and Bella hugged her cold body back as hard as she could. Esme had always acted like the mother she never knew.

"I will miss you too Madame Cullen," Bella smiled as she was released from her grasp. "I will miss all of you. Thank you for being so kind."

Carlisle smiled warmly at her. "I just shudder to think of what will happen when you have no medical attention around, Bella."

Monsieur Cullen's son, Emmett, laughed loudly at that. "It is still an amazing wonder that you can dance at all! I'll be very depressed without your amusing falls to keep me upbeat." Bella carefully looked at his broad, smiling, and surprisingly handsome face. She wondered if he was unable to know the feeling of sadness.

Emmett's wife and Jasper's sister, the beautiful Rosalie, smacked his arm playfully. "Leave her alone Emmett! It's not her fault she's so…" She trailed off, trying to find a way to put the obvious delicately.

"Clumsy?" Bella suggested.

"Exactly! But I will miss you. Goodbye!" And, Rosalie found, she meant it. She would miss this peculiar little human and her even more peculiar friend Alice. It sounds odd, but Rosalie liked the thought of them as her sisters. But she would not bring this life upon them, no matter how much Jasper or…_he_…would want it. Rosalie gave Mademoiselle Swan a brief hug and, to the disapproving looks of her family, whispered in Bella's ear, "Just…be careful around shadows, okay?"

They all turned their backs to a very confused Bella.

000

Jasper met his family in an empty hallway backstage to hear of his duties. Not that he really considered being near Alice a duty, but he was mainly there for his wayward brother. Besides being willing of any excuse to stay with Alice, Jasper was the most suitable for the job at hand.

Carlisle had built this opera house several years ago and named it after a town he was particularly fond of back in America. He had been here from the start and people were starting to wonder why Monsieur Cullen and his wife looked exactly the same as they had when they came. For Carlisle and Esme, it was time to move on, no matter how attached they had grown to this place. They already had a nice cottage in England picked out, and Carlisle was to go back to his career of medicine.

Emmett and Rosalie had not been here as long due to a very, very extended honeymoon, but they were going to join their "parents." Rosalie avoided any topic that was concerned with _him,_ because he saw right through her, and she didn't like it one bit. So instead of feel his smugness and contempt, she will leave. Even though Emmett follows wherever his wife leads, he did offer to stay. He was willing, but he lacked the certain touch that Jasper had been endowed.

That left Jasper as the guardian. He was the most recent addition to the family, but not to the lifestyle. The people in the theater had not been here long enough to notice his lack of change. He would also be able to sense any…trouble being caused, and help prevent it. Not that it would be easy. Jasper had a past in the military and found his "brother" the most challenging opponent he had had to deal with, especially with his _talent_. But Jasper would try.

Carlisle moved to the center of the room and spoke in a calm, clear voice, as if he were addressing someone in the room with them. Which he very well might be. "Edward? Edward, please, let us say farewell."

The five stood still in the dark room, not breathing, not blinking, and trying to pick out movement in the surrounding shadows. He was there _somewhere_. Suddenly, they felt a rush of wind and he was in front of them. He had surprised them all, which is a feat within itself, and he was more than a little smug about it.

"Hello Carlisle," Edward spoke in a musically velvet voice. It was surely the voice of an angel. "Esme, Jasper, Emmett…Rosalie." He said the last name with more than a little disdain. "Did you really think I would let you leave without saying goodbye? I'm saddened by your ill thoughts of me."

Esme stepped forward and clasped his hands in her own. "Come, Edward, come with us. Leave this dark place of sorrow that you hide yourself away in. Stop blaming yourself." Her pleading face was almost too hard to deny. She had been the mother he always wanted. Once his had…abandoned him. He resisted.

"Esme, mother, I'm sorry to have to see you leave, but there is no excuse for what I have done. For what I _am_." Edward gazed mournfully into her topaz eyes, which were a few shades lighter than his own. "I must stay."

"But dear, you are not the monster you make yourself out to be. You don't have to hide behind shadows and that _mask_." She made a move to pull it off, but he held it firmly in place. "Edward, you must not let your human life effect you so." _Whatever those men said about you or did to you, _she thought desperately,_ you are different now. Don't let the long dead words sting you so._

Edward ran his hand over his mask reflectively. "But it's still there Esme. It may be gone, erased by immortal beauty, but I can _feel_ it. That damn infection will haunt me forever."

He didn't want to say what he really meant. That he feared people will still see it. That they will laugh and mock him as they had once done before. Edward was afraid the infection could somehow mar his face once more, and chase away his new family like it had done in the past. If his biological mother wouldn't want him, how could they? So Edward pulled himself away from them and hid his true feelings as well as he hid his face. He couldn't bear to have his heart broken again.

"Farewell Esme, I will come back if I can," he said with finality.

That was that. The Cullens knew they could try no more. So they went along with their goodbyes as if nothing had happened.

Carlisle approached Edward for what he felt was going to the last time for years. _Are you sure?_ He asked in his thoughts. Edward nodded briefly. _Then you know you will always have a place in our home and our hearts. No matter what_. Carlisle hugged him quickly and turned away to comfort his wife.

Edward turned toward Emmett and Rosalie, already knowing what they were going to say. Emmett clapped Edward on the shoulder. _Just take care of Bella. She's a sweet girl...don't hurt her._ Edward nodded and returned Emmett's smile. "Goodbye Emmett, we'll see each other soon enough."

_I hope so, Edward. I really do._

Now there was Rosalie. She took a defiant step toward Edward and looked him in the eye. She had long ago refused to cater to his mind-reading, or anything else that would prove him better than her. She spoke to him as she would to anyone else.

"Be wary Edward. You may think you're untraceable, but humans can be smart. Like Bella." She paused a moment to savor his angry glare when she pointed out his obsession. "She will catch on eventually, and you'll have to push her away…like your doing to us right now. You may sound like the _angel of music_ to her, but what will you do when she finds out the contrary? Goodbye and good luck. You'll need it."

She flounced outside to join Carlisle and Esme with Emmett by her side. Edward had to admit, she could make an exit, one that "La Carlotta" would envy. _In fact, _he mused, _it's about time_ _Mademoiselle Stanley__ should make her _final_ exit from my opera._

Jasper had been staring out the window after his family's retreating carriage when he felt Edward's sudden jolt of mischief and delight within his usual cloud of hatred and self-loathing. "What are you up to Edward? Our parents have only just left and you're already going to terrorize the poor new owners of the theater. I'm not so-" Jasper had turned around to face Edward, but saw only air. Edward had disappeared, and in his place was an envelope sealed in red wax and a phantom chuckle bouncing off the walls.

He kneeled down, picked up the envelope and saw it was addressed to Monsieur Andre Banner and Monsieur Firmin Clapp.

Jasper could tire of this very easily.


	3. The Opera Ghost

**O ye of little faith! Don't be so quick to believe I will only follow the plot of _Phantom_, I've still got some tricks up my sleeve. Tell me what you think.**

**Disclaimer: Do you really think that if I owned _Twilight_ and _Phantom of the Opera_, I'd be writing this? Exactly, no. **

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The Opera Ghost

Paris, 1870

Monsieur Banner had only had this job for three quarters of an hour and he was already re-evaluating his choice. It seemed like a proper good idea at the time. He and Monsieur Clapp would leave the business of scrap metal and venture into the elegance of opera. Simple, right?

Wrong.

Jessica, or, he mentally corrected himself, _La Carlotta_ had been speaking non-stop to him since Monsieur Cullen left. No, not speaking, _screeching_. He had tried listening at first, but the decibel of her voice was so high, he had to tune out quickly for fear of becoming deaf. He resigned himself to looking repentant and nodding his head every few moments.

"Monsieur Banner?" asked a polite and pleasant voice behind him. Andre jumped and turned around. He had not heard anyone approach, and was immensely surprised to see Monsieur Hale standing there, calm and intimidating.

"Yes, yes. I am in need of you, my boy!" Banner nodded his head in Mademoiselle Stanley's general direction. "Your father said you can handle such situations as these. What do I do?" he pleaded.

Jasper smiled gently and placed his hand reassuringly on Monsieur Banner's shoulder. Banner immediately felt a calmness flow through his body. "Now," Jasper stated, "you grovel." He looked around curiously. "Where is Monsieur Clapp?"

000

The man in question was currently leaning too close to Alice for her comfort. He had, for the past ten minutes, skipped pleasantries and got straight to business. He considered his plan to be running along smoothly as he told Mademoiselle Brandon how beautiful she was, and, more importantly, how _rich_ he was. Ever since he saw her sprightly form, he had decided that he _must _have her. If only he could remember her name. Ally or something of the like. To see if his grand plan of seduction was working, Clapp looked down and saw just what he wanted to see. _Lust._

What Alice was really feeling was disgust. She had been exuberant at first meeting Monsieur Clapp. She thought she could make a new friend and he could hopefully see what a lovely and driven dancer she was, thus moving her up from a common chorus girl to something more worthy of her talents. But then Clapp leaned in and those thoughts went flying out of her head. He ran his hand down the side of her costume's bodice and purred in her ear that, "you can call me Firmin, my dear." Alice realized Monsieur Clapp wanted not only to become friends, but to become _very close _friends.

For five frantic minutes she had been eyeing multitudes of escapes, but was hit by the fact that his sheer body mass blocked off all hope of freedom. Alice surveyed the stage rapidly, trying to find someone to help her.

She then came across pair of very angry eyes. Topaz eyes. Alice widened her gaze beseechingly for help, and Jasper must have sensed her distress right away, because he quickly strode across the stage and shoved Monsieur Clapp roughly against the wall. Alice was momentarily surprised by how the lean Monsieur Hale could move someone three times his width so forcibly. These suspicions were quickly cast aside as she noticed how handsome Jasper looked with his golden hair hanging into his honey-colored eyes. She also couldn't help but notice how his muscles bulged under his shirt when he lifted Monsieur Clapp slightly off the floor.

While Mademoiselle Brandon was admiring Jasper's rippling muscles, he was attempting to restrain his growls. And his thirst. Definitely his thirst. Though Jasper had been adapting to his blood lust with his time spent at the opera house, he had never been this close to a human without…_feeding_. He sent his mind out for something besides anger and hunger to feel and was most pleasantly shocked when he came across Alice's.

He focused on the gratitude and relief and…

(love)

…something else that felt amazing but he couldn't quite place rolling off her in waves. He released Firmin and let him slide slowly down the wall. Jasper ran his hands through his hair and coldly looked down at Monsieur Clapp, who was now slumped into a sitting position and taking panic induced gulps of air.

"You are to give a helping hand to Monsieur Banner while he deals with Mademoiselle Stanley. You're obviously un-needed here." Jasper then stepped to Alice's side and put an arm protectively around her.

Firmin, acutely aware of the anger in Monsieur Hale's eyes and threatening stance, got up as fast as his portly body could get him and dashed toward Jessica's wails. When he believed himself to be at a safe distance, he slowed his pace and attempted to delay the inevitable confrontation with La Carlotta. It was a pity he couldn't get that pixie-like girl. Such a beauty! And so graceful! But so obviously claimed by the tall, blond fellow. Clapp glanced around the stage until he saw another chorus girl, reading prettily in the corner. He studied her long, mahogany hair and pale skin before shifting directions towards her. _Very attractive,_ he thought, _not as breath taking as Ally, the pixie-girl, but a fair prospect indeed. Oh what I'd like to do to her! I'd-_

There was a sudden blast of pain in Monsieur Clapp's right foot. Just, he reflected moodily, as he got to the good part of his fantasy about the brunette chorus girl, a sand bag had fallen directly on his foot. A _heavy _sand bag.

Clapp looked around the crowded stage for someone who could have done this to him. He had initially suspected that boy Hale, but he was standing innocently beside Firmin's failure, Ally. Jasper could not have possibly released that sand bag; he didn't have any ropes or levers near him. But it _was _a little suspicious how he was glaring up toward the ceiling with a mixture of irritation and amusement. Monsieur Clapp disregarded it.

Due to his thick, Italian leather shoes, Firmin had not really been hurt too badly. He took an experimental step forward and felt only a dull throb. Clapp entertained the idea of doubling over in pain and making a theatrical act of his suffering. He could perhaps draw the brunette's attention away from her book and towards him in his desperate time of need. Firmin could then make his move and-

_Another _sand bag came crashing down in front of him, this time missing his other foot by a hair's width. Clapp looked fearfully into the rafters above him. He could swear he had heard a curse and a…growl. _Hmm... _he speculated. _I ought to see if there are any animals chewing on the ropes up there. It would be very unfortunate if that were to happen during a performance. _Monsieur Clapp gave up on finding any young women to keep him company tonight and limped slowly toward "La Carlotta."

000

Bella peered over her book to see the new owners of the theater complimenting Jessica very loudly. So loudly it could be heard across the boisterous stage to the tucked away corner Bella was hiding away in.

"You are a beautiful _Spanish _flower, La Carlotta!" the scrawny older man, whose name Bella thought was Andre Banner, shouted. "And your voice! It is like the song of one thousand angels!"

"Two thousand angels!" piped in the plumper of the owners, Clapp.

"Perhaps we can go as far as _five _thousand angels, La Carlotta, because there can be nothing as heavenly as your singing!"

Bella rolled her eyes. They knew nothing of an angel's voice. _At least, _she considered, _they are calming her down. _Bella knew better than anyone else that you did not want to be on the receiving end of Jessica's anger; she herself had been there for years. Mademoiselle Stanley had taken one look at how Carlisle Cullen had doted over Bella and her little friend Alice, and set out to make her life horrible. She hadn't really succeeded in her goal due to their completely different schedules and Bella's general lack of caring. Jessica remedied this by unleashing, what she thought, was the most horrible punishment she could imagine…not being able to have the pleasure of talking to someone as fantastic as La Carlotta. Bella was gladdened by this silent treatment and Jessica was gladdened by the thought of Bella being agonized by the loss of her company. It was a good arrangement for the both of them.

Though every once in a while, Mademoiselle Stanley would grace Bella with her presence in an awful way. It would always be some practical joke that she would rub in Bella's face for weeks after. Last time, Jessica somehow stolen Bella's room key and Bella was locked outside her room for the whole day. She had been able to sleep in Alice's room, but she was trapped in yesterday's clothes and fuming as she watched Jessica wave her key at her when she walked past. However, "La Carlotta's" pleasure was short lived. Bella had mysteriously found the key attached to her door knob by a blood red ribbon later that night. She never did find out who had taken back her stolen room key from Jessica. Bella had asked Alice, but she denied knowing anything. Meanwhile, Mademoiselle Stanley's own splendid suite in the upper rooms of the opera was _welded _shut. She had immediately flown into a shrill story of how her poor pug was trapped in there. Not to mention her expensive jewelry, lavish gowns and gaudy furniture. It took two days for the workmen to get the door open. The pug had been alright, but the shoes he had snacked on were beyond help.

Jessica had tried with all her might to somehow pin this on Bella, but there was no evidence to support her suspicions. When "La Carlotta" came to talk to Carlisle at the time, he had been oddly nervous and was stubbornly fixed on blaming nobody. Mademoiselle Stanley had thought he was only trying to protect that good for nothing orphan.

"Excuse me, everyone," Bella suddenly heard Monsieur Hale's voice. He was standing a head taller than anyone else on stage and had his hands up, asking for silence. "Our Messieurs Banner and _Clapp_," Jasper paused to throw a quick, angry glare toward him, "have asked to see us perform the opera we have been practicing for the gala, _Hannibal_. Please take your places from the beginning of act four, starting with the ballet." Bella didn't miss the fond look Jasper gave Alice as he said "ballet," and Alice's answering grin from her place on stage.

Bella sighed happily as she got into her position. She thought Alice and Jasper were made for each other; all you had to do was look at them talking and you could instantly tell.

The conductor tapped three times on his music stand to draw the musicians' attention, then started waving his baton rapidly back and forth. The music started off slowly, but gained in speed. Bella could feel an ease going through her as she started the familiar and rehearsed steps the chorus girls must do. The bells attached to the side of their costumes and the chains on their wrists jingled to the beat.

Bella was still amazed she could move so fluidly on stage. Everywhere else she wrecked havoc by crossing the room, but under the blinding lights she felt…confidant. She would never be as naturally graceful as Alice, who was nearer to the front and doing the more complicated routine, but she had a presence on the stage that was undeniable.

The dancers made a path in the middle of the stage for Jessica, who was wearing not only a dress that went out a full foot on either side of the hip, but a towering headdress of extravagant proportions. La Carlotta was to sing her big duet with the leading male tenor, Monsieur Michael Newton. Since _Hannibal_ would be showing at the Forks' gala, where they would name their new patron, Jessica had to make everything perfect.

Sadly, perfection is not what came out of her mouth.

She seemed to have a voice that opera goers loved, expressive and powerful, but it was the voice everyone else hated, nasal and obnoxious with her exaggeration of her R's. The maintenance crew had taken to putting cotton balls in their ears so they wouldn't have to hear it.

And, as she came to the high drawn out finale of her song, someone in the rafters of the ceiling decided he never wanted to hear it in his opera house again.

Edward had waited until the simpleton who handled the rigging left, so he could sneak a drink no doubt, to make his move. His plan was simple in design and he was sure it would be effective in its result. His only foreseeable obstacle was Jasper, who had snuck away while the chorus girls started performing and was coming to confront him. As if on cue, Edward could hear his adopted brother's thoughts coming from right beside him on his perch over the stage.

_Edward, what are you doing? I can't believe he dragged me away from watching Alice. She's so beautiful when she dances, and so happy. He better not be up to anything that could hurt her._

"Jasper," Edward said coolly as he began pulling ropes into position. "Are you here to enjoy the show?" He peered over the railing to see if his target was in the correct place, and if his young pupil was safely out of the way. Seeing that they were both where he had hoped them to be, he took a moment to admire his student's form as she danced. Bella was truly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. These were the moments, when he saw she was happy, that he didn't feel the least bit guilty becoming a part of her life.

Jasper looked on with pleasure as Edward ogled Alice's friend. He could see the unintentional smile break out on the side of his face that was not covered by the mask. Jasper felt Edward's stab of warm and tender feelings for the chorus girl as clearly as he felt his own for Alice. _How could we have fallen so hard for such innocent humans, Edward? _he asked.

Edward straightened up and frowned at him. "Now is not the time to speak of this." He began fiddling around with the ropes again, tying and retying them rapidly. "I'm aware our family wished for you to _watch over me_, but that does not mean I need a caretaker, Jasper."

Jasper looked down to check on Alice again. _It is not you we are trying to protect. We are afraid you might do something drastic, like now._

Edward smirked. "If you think this is drastic Jasper, you've got another thing coming. You'll know when I'm being dire. Now, in exactly thirty seconds, I'm going to throw a ratchet in the works of _La Carlotta's _future. You might want to pull your sweetheart out of the way before an accident occurs."

Jasper ran.

000

Alice was in heaven.

One moment she had been dancing her part in a circle around the singing Jessica, then the next she had collided with something hard, cold, and Jasper shaped. He had hurtled himself across the stage and pulled her against him mere seconds before Edward's plan was complete. Alice didn't understand what the loud crash was off from where she had been dancing, but she could easily comprehend that Jasper smelled amazing.

Jasper had been watching Edward's purposeful retreat when Alice tightened her grip around him, buried her head in his shirt and…smelled him? He mentally dropped the puzzling mystery that was his brother and focused on how wonderful it felt to have Alice in his arms. He pulled her closer until there was practically no space between them. Her face tilted up to look in his eyes and he was struck by her beauty. Her unusually short inky black hair contrasted brilliantly with her pale complexion and large eyes of the oddest color; a blue that almost looked purple. _And her lips,_ he thought despairingly, _what I would give to taste those lips._ Little did Jasper know that Alice was basically thinking the same thing, but about him.

She looked at him in puzzlement. "How did you get here?" Alice had been attempting to show off for Jasper while dancing, but in the time between one of her spins and one of her leaps, she had looked over and saw he was gone. She wouldn't admit to herself that she was disappointed beyond all belief, because along with horrible clothes, Alice hated being too dependent. And she was quickly understanding that she was very _very _dependent upon Jasper.

Jasper didn't know what to say. Should he tell her the truth? Lie? Avoid the question entirely? "Uh, well, you see-" Luckily he was saved from having to answer due to a shrill shrieking coming from the area of Edward's target.

000

"Get this OFF of me!" Jessica howled. She had just gotten to the best part of the duet, where she really got to belt out her song and let the lucky people around her treasure her voice, and the curtain overhead _fell _on her. How the curtain had become unrigged was a mystery, but in Jessica's case, enough is _enough_. "I am done with this!" she squawked, trying to simultaneously stand up and stop her headdress from falling.

Monsieur Banner, who could now thoroughly understand why Monsieur Cullen had left, was at the end of his rope. It must not be held against him that he answered Jessica's outburst. "Done with of what, Mademoiselle?"

"These things happening! I've had enough!" She now had her headdress straightened, but was still sprawled on the floor, the heavy fabric of the curtain covering half her body.

Jasper, who had jumped at the opportunity to not have to answer Alice's prodding questions, tried to overpower Jessica's whirlwind of anger and confusion, but he was so rattled himself that he couldn't help. He inwardly sighed and took a step toward Mademoiselle Stanley. "These things happen, _Carlotta_. You can not let them upset you."

But not even Jasper could slow Jessica down. "These things happen?! These things HAPPEN?! These things have been _happening _for years!" She began stomping toward her bedroom to gather her things, Monsieur Clapp hot on her trail making promises.

Monsieur Banner turned tiredly toward Jasper. "How often do these things happen, Monsieur Hale? I am beginning to wonder if I should just quit and go back to scrap metal." Banner looked around at the fallen curtain- which thankfully did not damage anything- and noticed the fear on the performers' faces. "Why," he asked Jasper hesitantly, for he was not sure if he wanted to know the answer, "is everyone so distressed?"

At Jasper's silence, Andre turned around and marched toward one of the chorus girls, a black haired little pixie. "Mademoiselle, do you know how this happened?" he asked hurriedly.

Alice tore her eyes from the pile of curtains and looked Banner in the eye. "It was the _ghost_, Monsieur. The _opera ghost_. Oh, how lucky I am that Jasper pulled me out of the way! I would have been squashed like Jessica!" The girl then turned and looked thankfully toward Jasper, who had followed Monsieur Banner.

Monsieur Hale was gladdened that Alice's grateful feelings overshadowed her suspicion, but that did not mean he could avoid the unpleasantness of explaining Edward's current situation to Banner. "Monsieur, the Forks Opera House is…_haunted_…by the phantom. He has left me this letter," Jasper pulled out Edward's red sealed note and handed it to Banner, "to give to you and Monsieur Clapp. I believe that if you read it, all shall be explained." Jasper took Alice by the arm and left Monsieur Banner to himself.

"How," Alice asked in awe, "did you get the Opera Ghost's letter? And you never answered my question from earlier." She could not have secrets kept from her, and was determined to find out what Jasper was hiding.

Monsieur Hale sighed; he should have expected she wouldn't let it go. "Alice, I promise everything will be explained soon, just not now. I need to think of a way to break this to you…gently." He pleadingly looked into her face and she nodded slowly.

Alice decided she could wait for the truth; Jasper was worth it.

000

Monsieur Banner locked the door to his office. He and Firmin had tried to persuade Jessica of staying, but she would not be stopped. Their last hope was that they could convince her of rejoining them tomorrow, after she calmed down. But right now, they had more important matters to attend to. Like this damn _phantom_.

After Andre had recounted Jasper's explanation, he and his associate sat down and read the letter given to them.

_My dear Messieurs Banner and Clapp,_

_I would like to welcome you to my opera house. _

_At my request, the former owner of Forks, Monsieur Carlisle Cullen, had neglected to tell you both of my presence, because I had wished to introduce myself personally. You shall save box five for me during every performance. I will also take this opportunity to remind you that my salary is due. Carlisle paid me twenty thousand francs a month, perhaps, with the vicomte as your patron, you can afford more. _

_Your humble and obedient servant,_

_Opera Ghost._

"_His_ opera?" Clapp raged. His face was quickly turning red and he was furiously wringing his plump hands in front of him. "The monstrous pride this man has to expect that we'd submit to his demands!"

Banner could not share the fury Firmin had; he was to overcome by fear. Andre had seen what this ghost could do and had no doubt he could continue doing whatever he pleased, entirely unseen. He could be listening to them _right now_. "What are we to do, Firmin?" he asked weakly.

"I'll tell you what we'll do!" Clapp cried. "We'll sell his box and deny his salary! We will show him who is in charge of this opera! Us, not him! But, for the time being, we must not let him have power over us. We will continue as if nothing is wrong. First, we find a replacement for La Carlotta."

Monsieur Clapp jumped from his chair and out the door, leaving Andre sitting dejectedly in his seat. _How,_ he thought, _are to overcome this?_ He slowly stood up, feeling his elderly bones crack, and walked out the door, where Clapp had pulled aside Monsieur Hale and asked if Carlotta had an under study.

"No," Jasper replied shortly. "She had been too insulted by the idea of being replaced."

Monsieur Clapp's former expression of perseverance faded. "No understudy? But we must have someone to play her part! She's the lead!"

Alice, who had been standing off to the side, stepped forward. "I know who could play the part." She looked over to her friend, sitting quietly in a corner, staring at the rafters above where the curtain fell.

Alice turned back and looked the owners in the eye. She smiled and confidently announced, "Bella Swan could play La Carlotta's role."


	4. Voice of an Angel

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed or even read this. It means alot. I'd like to dedicate this chapter to ReadingIsLife.7, who was the first person to ever dedicate anything to yours truly. Your the coolest thing since sliced bread.**

**Disclaimer: No. No matter how much I wish, I do not own _Twilight _or _Phantom of the opera_.**

* * *

Voice of an Angel

Paris, 1870

Bella had no idea why she had agreed to this. She had been innocently looking into the ceiling where the curtain had fallen- wondering if she had just imagined the movement in the darkness- when her _supposed_ best friend had pranced over, with Messieurs Clapp, Banner, and Hale hot on her heels, and held her hands toward Bella with a flourish.

"This is Mademoiselle Isabella Swan," Alice declared happily, "and she can perform Carlotta's role."

Bella had been too stunned to speak, but, to her displeasure, Monsieur Banner had been just bewildered enough to say, "A _chorus girl? _You want me to give the lead part of a major musical production to a _chorus girl_?" He turned toward Alice. "Next time you are taken up with such fanciful ideas as _this_," he pointed toward the slowly angering Bella, "don't bring them to me!" He made a move to stomp away, but Jasper grabbed his arm.

"Monsieur, I believe you ought to listen to what Alice has to say, not to mention hear what Bella has to sing." Banner was about to give this young man a stern reminder of who exactly was in charge here, but he felt a lovely calm wash through him. Perhaps he could take the time to listen to this girl.

He put in a last ditch attempt to have his way. "Has she even had proper training?"

Alice smiled and Bella blushed. "Oh, Monsieur Banner, Bella has been trained to sing by the most talented singer in all of Paris."

Banner frowned skeptically and turned toward Bella, "Who is this amazing person, Mademoiselle?"

_Wouldn't I like to know_, Bella she thought bitterly. "I'm…not sure," she whispered.

"Don't know your own teacher! Well, I-" He stopped abruptly when he felt that serenity work it's way through his troubled mind and put an end to his frantic nerves. "Sing now girl, before I lose my patience."

Bella quickly obeyed and made her way to center stage. A loose congregation of performers had grouped around the edges of the stage, watching with interested and skeptical eyes. They had never heard the shy dancer sing before. Bella tried to remember what her instructor had taught her, but all rational thought was driven out of her mind by the bright lights she had once thought helpful.

She tried once unsuccessfully to start singing, but the words were caught in her throat. Bella looked toward her spectators and saw the aggravation on the owners' faces, and Alice's disappointed but hopeful expression. Bella began to think of her teacher's wonderful voice, so soft, so velvet-like, and so _perfect_. Then, oddly, she began singing.

When Bella sang, everything else became quiet. She had not the over expression and over bearing stage presence that most performers of her time had, but a silken, magical voice that captivated and wound it's way around it's listeners. It frankly displayed the emotion of the song and let the words ring as clear as bells.

It was, as far as Messieurs Banner and Clapp were concerned, the perfect voice for the opera.

After Bella finished, she was brought down from the excited and happy feelings she had while singing by the echoing silence that surrounded her. Had she missed a note? Was she awful? Bella whirled around in uncertainty only to see Alice's expression of awed delight grinning at her. Just as Alice bounced up to hug Bella, the crowd broke into a thunderous applause. Cheers and praises could be heard from all around her, and Bella swore she could hear her teacher's, her_ angel's_, voice calling softly, "Bravo! Bravo, my Bella!"

Monsieur Clapp was now looking Bella up and down in a way she did not like. "Dear, you will be perfect for the role! Now the gala is only in two days, so we must continue rehearsals quickly. We will want nothing to go wrong when we announce that the vicomte de Black will be our new patron!"

"Wait!" Bella turned toward Clapp and raised her hands. "The vicomte de Black? _Jacob _Black?" She watched his face thoroughly, and when he nodded yes, she smiled largely.

Jacob and Bella had been childhood friends. She could remember the house on La Push, a small reservation where she had lived with her father before he died. Bella had been eight, and when her scarf blew off in the sea wind, a little boy of the same age had wadded into the water to retrieve it for her. They quickly realized who the other was. Jacob, of the noble Blacks, and Bella, who was the daughter of the famous violinist. When her father had died, she moved to the Forks Opera House, and had never seen or heard from Jacob again. Would he even remember her?

She supposed she would find out in two days.

000

Alice Brandon was having trouble with Bella. It was the day of the gala, and Bella only had _three hours_ to get ready! How could she ever pull it off? Alice began pacing back and forth in Bella's small room, waiting for her to get back from her lessons. Alice sighed and sat down, playing around with a brush. She didn't really know what to think of Bella's lessons. She didn't know what to think of Bella's _teacher_. She was so rarely told anything about the two that Alice felt somewhat left out.

She saw Bella slip in through her door from the mirror. "Why hello, Bella," she growled in her best menacing voice. "Are you ready for your_ torture_?" She held the brush out in front of her as though it were a sword and made stabbing gestures in the air.

Bella laughed freely and put her hands up in defense. "Oh no! Anything but _that_!" And, to Alice's immense surprise, Bella sat down in her chair without a complaint. "Do your worst Alice. I can take it." She turned and dutifully faced her mirror.

Alice stepped cautiously over and prodded Bella in the shoulder. "Who are you, and what have you done to my makeover-hating friend?"

"I'm indeed Bella," she laughed. "I'm just in a good mood."

This piqued Alice's interest. "Why," she asked suspiciously, "are you in a good mood? They didn't cancel the play, did they? Oh, I knew you wouldn't want to be in the spotlight! Go back and demand to have the role given back, because if you don't I'll have to-" She was cut off by Bella placing her hand over Alice's mouth.

"No," she said, "the opera is not canceled, I'm actually looking forward to it, but I _did_ have a good singing lesson. My teacher is very pleased." Bella blushed at the remembrance of her tutor's kind words. He had been extremely happy, and had congratulated her profusely, telling her she had deserved the role from the start.

"Oh," Alice sighed in a sort of sad, disappointed voice that sent a pang through Bella's heart. "Tell me about him, you never do."

"Um, well." Bella didn't know where to start. Or how she would tell it.

"Why don't you tell it from the beginning?" Alice offered. "How did you meet?"

"It was about a year after I first came here," Bella started. This had been before Alice had run away from her family, because they had insisted she needed psychiatric help for her "feelings" and when they came true. Alice came later. "I had been in the chapel, crying over Charlie when this…voice came out of nowhere. And Alice, it was the most beautiful thing you could have ever heard. He has the voice of angels. I'm almost sure he _is_ an angel.

"Well, when I heard him speak, I got up quickly and turned to see who it was, but I saw no one. I called out if any one was there, and when there was no answer I began to leave. As I went toward the door, I remember him hailing out, with an immense sadness in his voice that I can never forget, to stop, please. He then asked my name. I told him and he inquired as to why I was crying. 'Such a beautiful young girl as you should not be crying,' he had said.

"In my innocence of youth, I asked what his name was. He only uttered, 'Another time, little Bella, I will tell you when you are older.' When I started to explain that _everybody_ must have a name, he laughed and gave me an offer. 'If,' he said, 'you will become my student, you can call me teacher.' I quickly agreed - for this strange voice in the darkness made me feel so happy, so complete- and questioned my new teacher on what my lesson would be. 'I will be teaching you to sing,' he spoke slightly hesitantly, as if I would reject him. I was so entranced by his voice, that I didn't think before I asked, 'Will I sing like an angel, just like you? Because, you sound like the angel my father described to me. The angel of music.' He didn't say anything for a few moments. I was afraid I had upset him, for when he finally spoke, he stated, 'I am anything but an angel Bella.' Before I could contradict him, he alerted me that there was someone coming and his voice vanished. I was standing there when Monsieur Cullen came in moments later and asked me if I was alright, if I saw anyone. I told him no, because I truly did not see the mysterious man with the ethereal voice.

"Ever since then, we have been meeting at the chapel for my singing lessons. He says we use it because it is out of the way and no one will hear them. I wish you could meet him Alice, but he is very reclusive. He doesn't like anyone besides me to know of his being there."

At seeing Alice's astonished face, Bella quickly tried to defend herself. "You asked me to tell you the story and now I have. Do not look at me as though I set fire to your wardrobe."

That broke Alice out of her trance. "Don't even say such things Isabella! It's just…well, it sounds like you…_love _him. A man you don't even know." Alice searched Bella's face, and saw it in her eyes. That special light that told her Bella feels for this _angel_ as she herself felt for Jasper.

Bella blushed a bright and violent shade of red. _Oh no, _Alice thought_, she really _does_ love him._ "I think," Bella whispered. She was finally admitting her greatest secret. "I think I do. And there's another thing too Alice." Bella spoke quickly, not sure if she could trust herself to get them all out. "He, my angel, might be the…phantom. It all makes sense…the mystery, the unknown identity, the fact that we have seen neither of them. It fits."

Alice's jaw dropped. Bella was not only head over heels for an unknown man, but she was head over heels for the _Opera Ghost_. Alice was about to give Bella a stern talking to, but she decided that could only chase Bella away from her. She needed to support Bella. "Okay, I know I have embarrassed you enough, but this is my last question. Has he ever…tried to do anything to you?" Alice shuddered a bit as she remembered Monsieur Clapp.

The blush doubled. "No, Alice! I thank you for the worry, but he has been nothing but a perfect gentleman. The only time he's ever touched me was when I fell while walking down the stairs to the chapel. Even then, he was out of sight before I turned around."

This would have to suit Alice. "I believe you. Good luck, Bella. I really hope this all works out for the better. Now, let's get you ready!" Alice's designer side took over her concerned friend side. "You must look perfect for your _mystery man_," she added playfully and Bella laughed, she was glad her friend could accept the craziness of her situation.

Not that Alice really accepted it that much. She would not just let her best friend be deceived by the phantom. She mentally plotted through ideas as she did Bella's hair. She would ask Jasper, she decided. If this man was indeed the phantom, he would have to know him. How else could he have gotten the letter? This was becoming more and more complicated by the moment. How could Bella love someone who played those awful tricks? _S_he was almost squashed by one of the tricks. But the twinkle in Bella's eyes, and the smile on her face told her she better not voice her opinions.

Alice was very worried indeed.

000

Oh, how Jacob Black hated these tedious events. Ceremonies, parties, _galas._ To him, the only thing they were good for was wasting time and money.

Right now, he was at the Forks Opera House, sitting in the too plush chairs in box five and waiting for the opera to start. Jacob supported the _general_ idea of the arts, but when forced to sit through an endless march of performances, most sung by awful singers, he drew the line. He had already planned to duck out early do to a "severe headache." But now he had to at least make it to intermission, for the lights were already dimming and he could hear the musicians start the music.

He turned his gaze toward the stage and was stunned. He was seeing, and _hearing_, an angel. When the first notes of song rose out of her lovely mouth, he was immediately entranced. This woman was the most ethereal thing he had ever witnessed. Her long brown hair was gently curled and pulled back at the nape of her neck, displaying her smooth creamy skin. And those deep brown eyes. He had only seen those eyes once before, set in the face of the little girl whose scarf he had rescued. Could it be the same Bella Swan he had been in love with as a child?

He watched the rest of the opera in fascination, though he didn't understand a bit of what was happening plot wise. All Jacob Black comprehended was the beautiful actress that graced the stage. What he saw could only reassert the hope that the lovely woman was Bella. _His _Bella.

As soon as it ended, he jumped up, gave a quick round of applause, and flew out toward the dressing rooms as fast as he could. Jacob could easily locate hers because it was the one surrounded by ecstatic fans, friends, and reporters. Using his complete height and size advantage, he quickly parted the crowd until he was near the door, smashed between the owners of the opera themselves.

"Ah!" cried Monsieur Clapp as he recognized the very rude young man who had shoved his way up here. "How did you enjoy our play? I," he continued without waiting for the vicomte's response, "thought Mademoiselle Swan was simply superb." He was about to say more, _much _more, for he couldn't pass up a chance to show off to the vicomte, but the door they were currently smashed in front of opened.

A tall, pale man stepped out into the hallway accompanied by a short girl with odd cropped hair. They shared a smile as they saw the crowd of people trying to look around their shoulders and get a glimpse of the new star. "Everyone," shouted the man in an authorative voice. "Mademoiselle Swan does not wish to see anyone right now. Would you please clear out?" There were grumbles of disappointment, but they all walked away, except the owners of the opera and the vicomte.

As Jacob approached Alice, she recognized him immediately. Bella had told her of how they both had been friends before Bella moved into the opera house. Alice observed the way he kept looking at the door behind her, as if by sheer will he could make it disappear.

"Can I help you?" Alice asked politely.

"Yes," said the vicomte de Black hurriedly. "Can I see Mademoiselle Swan…by myself?" He threw in an anxious smile for good measure.

Alice frowned. Bella said she didn't want any visitors, but would she want to see her old friend? "Let me see if she's busy first." With that, Alice disappeared behind the door Jacob found so agonizing.

When Alice walked into the room, she found Bella sitting at her vanity and staring a single red rose, bound in a matching red ribbon, she held in her hands. Bella turned around to face Alice with an excited smile on her face. She held out the rose triumphantly.

"Look Alice!" she beamed. "He is happy with my performance!" Bella handed Alice the rose and sat down again, completely content. She could not remember when she had last been this happy. _If only_, she thought with a slight degree of melancholy, _Charlie was here. He'd be so proud._

Alice studied the rose suspiciously. It's perfection seemed too surreal; out of place among the bouquets of congratulatory flowers that thronged in Bella's room. Each petal was a true red and in perfect condition, the stem was long and carefully removed of any thorns, and the red bow was elegantly tied around it all. Alice, who fancied herself well versed in the ways of design and appearance, couldn't help but approve of it.

She passed back to Bella with a smile. "It is very lovely, and there is someone who thinks _you_ are very lovely waiting outside the door." Alice saw the hope radiate off Bella's face before she added, "It is the vicomte de Black. He wishes to see you."

Bella's face fell, but she then focused on meeting Jacob again and she grinned toward Alice. "Let him in please," she said excitedly.

Alice exited and there was a moment where Bella assumed Alice was speaking to Jacob, and then he burst excitedly into the room. Bella stood up and gave him a quick hug. Jacob wished it would have lasted longer. What other chance would he have to hold such a beautiful woman in his arms?

"So," Bella started in that clear voice of hers. "You recognized me. I wasn't so sure if you would."

Jacob put his hand over his heart in mock hurt. "To think that you believe my memory is so poor. You break my heart."

Bella laughed and gestured for him to sit down on the couch opposite her. "Jacob, what have you been doing recently? I'm sorry to hear of Billy's accident. He must hate being in a wheelchair."

"He's restless, but fine." Jacob let the small smile creep across his face. His heart felt twice as big as she remembered the little details of their past. "Enough of Billy, I want to hear about _you_." He stood up quickly. "I know, let's go out. You can tell me all about yourself over dinner. My treat. Let me just get my coat." He started to walk toward Bella's door until she grabbed his arm.

"No, Jacob. I can't." She sat down defiantly in her seat; a sign that she wasn't going anywhere.

"Why?" Jacob asked, completely puzzled. Where else would she go?

"My teacher won't allow me. He is very strict about my getting proper sleep, because I have to get up so early."

"Teacher? Bella, you are a star! You don't need a _teacher_ to tell you what to do now!" He then ran out the door before Bella could try to stop him.

_Oh_, Bella remembered dully, _I'd forgotten what an awful listener he is._ She sighed and threw herself down on the couch, covered her face with a pillow. Bella started to mentally prepare what she would say when he got back. He would be disappointed, but she couldn't let that defer her from the task at hand.

_Click._

Bella snapped her head in the direction of her door locking so fast her neck cracked in pain. _Someone was here_. She carefully got up and grabbed the first weapon she could reach for. A pillow. Bella tried not to laugh at herself as she slowly tip-toed through her room. _Great, _she reprimanded herself. _What am I going to do? Feather him to death? _She was halfway to the door when she heard a throat being politely cleared. She jumped and saw the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

Her angel, for she was sure it was her angel, was standing as calm as you please beside her door, a key dangling from his fingers. He was strategically in the shadows, but when he stepped forward and held out his hand, Bella was powerless against him. She moved closer and looked up into the face of the man she had been imagining since she was a small girl.

He was much younger than she had thought. Probably her age even. She could only see the left side of his face, because the right was covered by a brilliantly white mask. Though what she could see was so incredibly handsome, she couldn't do anything but stare helplessly. It was like the paintings of gods crafted by the people of ancient Greece. Strikingly perfect. He had a lean, angular face with artistically placed features. A straight nose, strong chin, full lips, and piercing topaz eyes fringed by long eyelashes. He was a living, breathing Adonis.

The back of her mind registered that she had seen such…

(inhuman)

…beauty before with the Cullens. She had had daily proof of their grace and looks, and was seeing it again, in this tall, sinewy man in front of her. Only, it seemed, to a dizzying degree that surpassed even Rosalie. Bella thought it was sacrilegious to be covering such a beautiful face.

He smiled, and opened his mouth to speak in that velvet voice of his. "Bella," at the sound of her name from his lips she felt her knees weaken. "I would like to celebrate with you _alone,_ if you don't mind. Without the _boy_. I think it's time we should become properly acquainted, because it is long over due. Will you come with me?"

Bella could only nod clumsily and blush a bright red. She took his hand and followed him as he pulled something on the wall, and her mirror turned on hinges she had never seen before. With one final look into her eyes, Edward tightened his grip on Bella's hand and led her into the darkness.

000

Jacob had just returned from fetching his coat and, after successfully dodging Messieurs Clapp and Banner, he arrived at Bella's door. He adjusted his jacket and reached to give a knock, but stopped when he heard a voice. A _male_ voice.

For the first time in his life, Jacob fully understood the feelings of love and jealously. He pressed his ear to the door, but could hear only murmuring. Bella couldn't possibly have a lover and not tell him. Jacob felt his heart writhe in pain.

After several moments consideration, he turned the doorknob. It was locked. The idea that Bella was locked in a room with a man she hadn't mentioned raised red flags in Jacob's mind. He stepped back quickly and threw his weight on the door. I didn't budge. He backed up to the opposite wall this time and tackled the door with all the strength he had; making it fall open and collide into the wall with a crash.

He picked himself up quickly and stalked into the room with a murderous expression on his face, looking for the awful man who could be doing horrible things to his Bella.

No one was there.


	5. Under the Opera

**Sorry for the delay, though I made up for it in length! I had some trouble on the first few pages because my E wouldn't work. I had to keep pausing to press it extra hard. I felt a little like Paul Sheldon in Stephen King's _Misery. _You know, when he has to keep filling in the empty spaces where the E's ought to be by hand. Only, thank goodness, I didn't have Annie Wilkes looming over me with a sledge hammer. Small favors.**

**Disclaimer: It hurts too much to say my failings, though I'll do it anyway. I do not own _Twilight_,_ Phantom of the Opera_, or even _Misery_. There! Now you know!**

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Under the Opera

Paris, 1870

Mist rose through the dark passage and covered everything in a thick carpet of haziness. This only added to the dreamlike qualities that she was amidst, because all within Bella's sight erratically disappeared in and out of her focus. The only sources of light were flickering candelabras set on the wall, making the plain stones surrounding Bella seem as ghostly and mysterious as the man leading her. Since the hallway was so narrow, she walked silently behind him and wondered if she was just imagining the curiously frustrated glances he kept giving her.

Bella had unsuccessfully tried to start a conversation. Six times. Each time she started, her mind went blank. She had no clue as to what was sociably acceptable to tell a masked man guiding you through the dangerous bowels of an opera house, but she so desperately wanted to hear him speak.

After several moments of hesitation and self encouragement, Bella managed to squeak out a weak, "Wh-what's your name?"

Her tutor stopped walking so suddenly that Bella couldn't stop herself from running into his broad back. She simultaneously tried to apologize for being so blunt and steady herself. She failed at both. Bella braced herself for impact with the cold hard ground, but was shocked to be caught by cold hard _arms_.

Her eyes flew open in surprise and she found herself to be face to, well…_mask_…with her angel. He must have quickly, much too fast for Bella to have seen, turned and caught her before she had made contact with the floor. The result was her teacher holding the exceedingly frazzled Bella in a low dip, only inches apart.

Had she been paying more attention, instead of spending her time blushing, Bella would have noticed how the enigmatic man she was in the arms of had stopped breathing. She could have also taken into account his clenched jaw and darkened eyes. These might have been thought alarming if not for the incredibly loving expression that graced his face. He was only ruffled by their closeness, but the woman he was holding…

Bella's mind had stopped functioning; her limbs had gone slack. All she could possibly focus on was how the candlelight made her angel seem to glow, casting moving shadows in his messy, auburn hair. Bella tried to take command of her body and stand on her own, but all she could breathlessly manage was, "Thank you."

Her angel smiled softly. "Anytime." His cool breath blew gently into Bella's face and she felt vaguely like passing out. "But," he continued. "Since you seem to be a danger to yourself and those around you, I suggest you let me handle how you travel." Before Bella could figure out what he was doing, he lifted her up off her feet and held her in his arms. She gave a small squeak of surprise and threw her hands around his glacial neck tightly, praying he wouldn't drop her.

After she got over the feeling that she was going to throw up, Bella realized her fears were unfounded as he strode with an easy and unstrained grace down the passage. She let herself relax into his chilly, yet comforting, chest. "You," she sighed, "never answered my question."

There was a moment that felt like an eternity before he finally answered. "You, my sweet Bella, amaze me." Bella blinked in surprise and focused on his eyes with a questioning look on her face. "Out of all the possible things you could ask, you simply wish to know my _name_."

Bella blushed at her own thoughtlessness. He probably thought she was horribly impractical and scatter brained now. Goodness knows she has only acted as such in front of him. "I," she tried to defend herself, "only meant that you had said you would tell me your name when I'm older, and, well, I'm…older." With the hopes of being able to string a proper sentence together, Bella drew in a breath to continue, but her teacher put his long fingers gently across her lips.

"It's only fair to keep that promise. My name is Edward Cullen."

Bella nodded slowly. She was rather surprised to be not surprised at all. Hadn't she already been comparing him to the Cullens? There were so many coincidences between them that she was a little ashamed to not have thought of it sooner. "So Monsieur Cullen knew you were the phantom all along?"

This time Bella was shrewdly analyzing his reaction, and it was hard to miss the shocked lift of the eyebrows and the widened eyes she was currently immersed in. "Yes," he said slowly. "He knew I was the phantom from the start."

There were so many questions Bella had for her angel, now _Edward_, that she didn't know where to begin. She opened up her mouth to ask the one she thought most important, but Edward spoke first.

"I understand you wish to quiz me, Bella, but could you hold your tongue for a while longer?" He must have noticed her crestfallen expression, because he quickly added, "We are almost there, and it would be better to talk of such things while we're more comfortable."

Bella agreed, but she had to ask him. "Where," she questioned cautiously, "is 'there?'"

Edward smiled fondly down at Bella's face and relished her warmth in his arms before simply saying, "Home."

000

It had been an hour and a half since Alice had let Jacob enter Bella's bedroom, and she was regretting her choice. Alice was currently pacing the length of her room and weighing the pros and cons of coming over and ridding Bella of the vicomte.

On one hand, she would be deemed awful for destroying the happy reunion of two long lost childhood friends. But on the other, this vicomte de Black could be completely different from when he was young. He could be pompous and demanding and Bella could be impossibly bored and desperately wishing for a savior.

Deciding to at least check on them, Alice lithely walked out of her room and into the halls. The performers and workers of Forks were still celebrating deep into the hours of the night. Whether it was for the success of the musical or the success of getting rid of La Carlotta, Alice was too preoccupied to find out.

As she approached Bella's room, she could hear loud, pounding sounds coming from inside. This was worse than her fears had been! The vicomte de Black was hurting Bella! Alice picked up her pace and went barreling though the open door, ready to bean him over the head with a small coat rack she had found on her way.

What she saw made her drop her unlikely weapon.

Jacob Black was standing in the middle of Bella's room, or, more correctly, what used to be Bella's room. Now, it was a complete and utter mess; furniture overturned, clothes strewn about, and flowers crushed deep into the carpet. The vicomte himself was breathing heavily and had murder written across his face.

"Where," Alice breathed with a fury that seemed too large for her small frame, "is Bella?"

Jacob stuttered and gazed toward the ground. "Th-that's what I was trying to figure out." He wouldn't admit this under any type of peril or torture, but this tiny ballerina _frightened_ him. He noted with some horror that she had brought a _coat rack _to hit him.

Alice was confused. "What do you mean by that?" Then with more force, "_Where is Bella?_"

"I don't know, okay?" The vicomte's voice cracked. "I don't! I had gone to get my coat so Bella and I could celebrate her accomplishment over dinner, and when I returned…" He took a deep breath, "when I returned there was a _man's _voice coming from her room. I thought something awful had happened to her, and when I broke down the door, _this room was empty_!" Jacob was now growing increasingly agitated and had returned to the ransacking of Bella's bedroom. "I looked _everywhere_! They are no where to be found. Not the man! Not…_Bella_." He looked up to Alice, pleading. "She didn't have a lover, did she? Did I come too late to have my darling childhood sweetheart?"

Everything about him broke Alice's heart. His hair was hectic, his clothing was rumpled, and, apparently, his heart was broken. As for Bella's _lover_, she had her suspicions, but right now she needed to get rid of Jacob.

"Vicomte," Alice purred with her most reassuring voice while sidestepping his question, "you must be mistaken. Bella might have left while you were getting ready, and the voice you heard was probably from the party." All the while she had been slowly making her way to Jacob's side. Now she carefully put her arm through his and guided him out the door. He failed to notice the ridiculously obvious height difference, and clung to her words as though they were a life preserver, and he a drowning man.

Alice continued with a flourish. Who said she wasn't fit to act? "You must be tired, vicomte. It has been a long night. Why don't you just go home and come back in the morning, when this mess is all sorted out?" With a final pat on the arm, she threw him into the hallway, and slammed the door in his face before Jacob could stutter out a thank you.

Being quite sure he wasn't going to break down the door once more, Alice gave a sigh of relief. _Now_, she thought, _to find Bella._She sent her detail-driven mind out and surveyed the wreckage the vicomte de Black had left behind. Alice was determined to find what he had failed to see in his haste. Something vital, something that could tell her where Bella had gone.

In the back of her mind, Alice knew Bella was safe. It was that deep, unexplainable _feeling _that she always put so much trust in when it came to her. Though it had been the cause of her family disowning her, the talent of hers had also shown her Forks, and for that she was eternally thankful. It had led her to something that the Brandons could never give their black sheep of a daughter, happiness.

Alice peered about the room, mindlessly picking up fallen articles of clothing and putting them in the wardrobe. Even in pressed times, her heart broke at the sight of forlorn dresses splayed across a dirty floor. After fastidiously looking in every place she could possibly imagine, Alice sat defeated in a worn chair. In her position, she directly faced the mirror she had looked at and modeled before so many times, and she noticed something was off. Or, the _room_ was off. The mirror looked as though it were tilted.

Alice jumped up and flitted to the other side of the room; carefully inspecting the heavy wooden frame. Yes, it _was_ different. She ran her hand along the left side she knew well and saw a space. There was a _gap_ in between the mirror and its frame! Alice looked down toward the bottom and saw something bright green sticking out from the gap. She bent down and deftly pulled it out.

It was Bella's rose; the _phantom's_ rose.

As Alice had pulled the flower, hinges formerly unseen by Alice turned and revealed a passage way. _This must be it! _her mind screamed triumphantly. _This is how they got out! Oh, now I have found the way to the phantom's lair! I can stop all this nonsense and _finally_ live in this theater without jumping at every shadow._

With her mind set on the smirking pleasure of revenge, Alice stalked into the dank hall. She felt a growing dread as she progressed, though the light from the doorway was easily seen. The candles were burned low and could run out at any time, plunging Alice into the darkness with no idea how to escape. She had stopped without knowing and was now straining her eyes in the darkness for any hint of Bella passing through here. No such luck.

_Squeak._

Alice's shrill scream echoed down the way as something warm and hairy brushed against her naked ankle. She backed away and saw a large, disgusting _rat_ staring up at her. If Alice had to pick an animal she despised most, it would be these horrid, decease carrying vermin, and in its presence, Alice gave up her hopes of a gallant rescue and turned to flee for safety.

She found protection much more quickly than she could have hoped. The kind of sanctuary she only found in Monsieur Hale's arms.

"Alice," he breathed in relief. She was solidly there, in his arms. _Thank all that is holy, _he fervently reflected, _that she did not stumble upon one of his traps. If one of my own kind could barely survive his ingenuity, she would most assuredly die. _As if to verify that she was actually there, he tightened his grip around her small form.

He held Alice out at arms length and checked her for any bruises. "What could have made you scream? Did you see anything?" Jasper was expecting his brother, but Alice cast her eyes downward before quietly answering him.

"Only a rat." She was about to thank him for coming just when she had needed him, but the oddity of this event caught her off guard. "How did you know I was here? I understand you have been waiting for a proper time to explain everything, but you _must_ tell me." Her voice had been rising in fear and desperation, but when what she said next drove her deeper into her panic. "_He_ has Bella, and I know you know how to get into contact with him. Please," she looked up into Jasper's eyes and he was shocked to see they were glistening with tears, "he could hurt Bella, my best friend and the only family I have. I _refuse_ to let anything happen to her. She thinks he is the angel of music, but I fear he is quite the opposite. You _must _tell me what is happening."

Jasper nodded and accepted the thought that he had already made up his mind a long time ago, without having realized it. "Yes, I will tell you everything. I promise. _Everything_. Just let me…straighten a few things out with _him_." He didn't need to elaborate, for Alice knew exactly who he was talking about. "I'll be back soon."

She looked around and saw that Jasper had walked Alice to her room without her even being aware of it. She had been so transfixed by his eyes, everything else seemed inconsequential. Alice sat down on her bed and watched Jasper quickly disappear out of her sight. She only hoped he would keep his promise.

000

During the building of Forks, it became necessary to pump underground water from the foundation pit of the building. This ended up creating an enormous subterranean river underneath the opera house.

Edward had been in charge of the construction of his adopted father's opera when Carlisle realized his vast knowledge and talent in architecture. Edward had gladly taken up the challenge, and, unbeknownst to his family, personally added his own array of secret passages, rooms, and doors. He had intended these were to be only for his own individual use, because he finally decided he needed a permanent residence. And this opera house was something beautiful and large that had been built with his own designs and ideas. It was the closest thing to home he ever had.

When he refused to live with his family, Carlisle and Esme were shocked and miserable. They thought he was going to leave them forever. No longer would they hear him tinkering with his grand piano in the parlour. No longer would he console their worrying minds. This sudden privacy was unnerving and they longed for the openness the family had once shared. They even missed his spats with Rose and Emmett.

They were somewhat reassured when he stated that he would be living in the opera house, for that was only several minutes walk from their house. The Cullens stayed as long as they could and tried many times, in vain, to persuade him to come home. They realized it was helpless and decided to make the opera even more of a home to him. They ordered expensive and finely made instruments, including a brand new piano and an organ. Esme decorated and painted the opera in Edward's favorite colors and styles. Carlisle let him advise him in how the theater ought to be run, and only performed musicals and plays that passed Edward's close inspection. The one thing they hadn't done was let him fire La Carlotta. Esme hated to believe their was no good in her, and, due to Jessica buying out half the city, it had been impossible to find a replacement.

Though for all the times they went out of their way to assist him, the family never knew where Edward had made his home. Carlisle and Esme took it in stride, just glad they saw him on a daily basis and on their hunting trips. Jasper, who had only recently come, had not lived with Edward before and personally felt little of the loss. Rosalie and Emmett were another matter all together. Rose hated the fact that she didn't know something, (And when she thought this Edward would always smugly answer her thoughts "Then that would explain why you are in a state of permanent hatred, dear sister.") but Emmett was driven by curiosity, pure and simple. He couldn't understand how Edward managed to disappear without anyone noticing. Emmett tried in vain to find the cleverly hidden doors, but everything looked completely normal.

Once, Emmett spent a full week trying to follow Edward. This was no easy task, and coupled with Edward's mind reading, it was utterly impossible. He would be stalking down a hallway he had just seen Edward enter, but when Emmett would turned his head, no Edward. He just vanishes. Poof, gone. There would only be a deserted hallway with a very confused and frustrated Emmett scratching his head.

One day, he had carefully kept his mind blank while shadowing Edward in the props room. Emmett saw Edward pull a lamp set on the wall and fall through a trap door in the floor. Elated, Emmett sprinted to the spot and quickly followed Edward's example. The outcome was very different from what he had expected.

Emmett had hoped to catch Edward red handed in a comfortably furnished room where he must spend his time. What he really found was a cold, dank, circular chamber filled with water. Water that he was landing in. Though he found no trouble swimming, he didn't even have to worry about that little matter of breathing, he was extremely vexed and embarrassed to be in such a situation. Emmett heard loud raucous laughter coming from a thin, well-hidden ledge set on the side of the wall where Edward stood. He was, Emmett couldn't help but hate, thoroughly dry.

"Did you think," Edward wheezed out, for it really was hilarious to see large Emmett floundering in the water and he couldn't control the laughter at the sight, "that I was oblivious of you following me?" Edward broke off in renewed gales of laughter. "It sounded like a herd of buffalo tailing behind me! And your face when you fell in! I think I will never see anything as funny in my whole life!" There was a sudden wicked glint in his eyes before he said, "Unless you climbing out proves more entertaining. I suggest you might want to start now, before it becomes dark; Rose might worry."

Those were the two longest hours of Emmett's life. He had climbed up, at super speed, and fallen back down too many times to count. With each drop Edward chuckled darkly and told him to keep going. Emmett viciously cursed Edward in his mind and tried again. The walls were so slick and smooth, thoroughly difficult to climb in the best conditions without Edward's watchful eye boring into his back. Emmett soon figured that Edward must have planned this from the start to bring him here. What a scoundrel! This only made Edward twice as amused.

When Emmett finally got out, drenched and bitter, he looked back down to see if Edward was there, but that hell hole was unoccupied. The trap door snapped back suddenly and Emmett jumped back, bewildered.

"Well," drawled Edward's voice from behind him, "that ought to teach you to mind your own business." He threw a thick towel at Emmett, a sardonic grin on his face. "Clean yourself up, you look like a drowned rat." And he disappeared.

Let's just say that Emmett, or any other Cullen, never tried to find out where Edward hid himself away again.

But now, for the first time, Edward was willingly taking someone to his home. Bella was not aware of the honor that was being bestowed on her, but if she was, she would have only cast her eyes down to the ground and blushed.

Edward (she didn't realize that every time she thought of that glorious name a happy smile spread across her face) had gracefully set her into a small boat at the end of the path. Bella had known a river existed under Forks, but seeing it with her very own eyes, she couldn't believe it. It was too massive, too beautiful to be hidden away like this. The pillars that rose to support a ceiling that was too high to see in the darkness were intricate and stunning. Delicate carvings ran along the colorfully tiled walls and the very boat she resided in was elegantly crafted. This was surly the most dazzling and exquisite place she had ever been in.

Bella turned, amazed, to face Edward. "Who made all this?" She gestured vaguely toward the large room they were in.

She was surprised to see something like shyness creep over her angel's face. "Actually," he said quietly, in a rather embarrassed voice, "I did."

Bella grinned. She was happy and felt an odd sort of pride burst within her. Her beautiful Edward had made this beautiful room. "Even the boat?" she asked in an astounded voice.

Edward smiled at her approval. "Yes, the boat as well." Bella nodded in wonder and continued to look about her in a child like way he found entirely endearing. If she liked this, she might enjoy his actual home. He let his mind pleasantly picture Bella resting on one of his sofas, sitting beside him at his never used dining table, and speaking to him in that animated way that brightened her eyes and exaggerated her hand movements. Yes, these were charming things to wish for, but he quickly drove his mind in another direction lest he become too wistful. He was a monster, twice over, and shouldn't count on having anything, especially Bella, that was too far out of his reach.

Bella, unaware of the emotional struggle taking place in the man behind her, noticed bright lights appear ahead of her. "Edward!" she called excitedly. "Is that it? Oh, do go faster, I want to see!"

There was a lurch when Edward, from his gondola like position, dug the pole in the water and pushed more quickly. The boat sped down the river at an inhuman pace, but Bella did not care. She was craning her neck and leaning forward, hoping to get a better look. The light she had seen grew and multiplied into many candles that were spread haphazardly in a quickly growing room. The features became less blurred and she was now able to pick out shapes.

Only a few moments later, Edward had stopped the boat in a cove and leaped into the water with a splash. He held his arms out as if asking for permission, and Bella stepped toward him shyly. She enjoyed being in his arms.

Edward loped smoothly through the water and set her gently down on the ground when they reached it. He was quite pleased to find Bella's mouth was agape as her eyes roved over his home. _I take it back, _Bella wondered. This_ is the most beautiful room I have ever been in._

Edward's home was one giant room, cut out from the rock. The different sections were on several different sized platforms, rising randomly in height and connected by stairs carved out of the same rock. The walls were covered in heavy draperies of dark gold, and there was a handful of thick carpets in a brighter shade. The room they were in now seemed like a living room. Two broad black leather sofas faced each other with a dark wood coffee table in between them. The other platforms were a dining room, study, and she assumed there was a bathroom through a heavy mahogany door, and a bedroom behind a black curtain.

And there were books. So many books and sheets of music scattered throughout the home, taking up tables and shelves. They were piled in tall, towering stacks, that seemed as though they'd fall at any moment. Bella also saw the art. From huge ornate gold frames, to simple little wooden ones. The paintings and portraits hung on the rock wall between the curtains or leaned against it. Sculptures of varied shapes and sized rested on shelves and tables, some even used as paper weights.

But none of these pulled the attention away from the central and highest platform. It was the largest and in the center rested a colossal organ. This instrument was the one defining feature and focal point. Though it was surrounded by dozens of other instruments, the mammoth organ reined supreme. Bella wished desperately she could hear him play.

"Edward, this is…it's so…wow…" She stuttered hopelessly. "It is beautiful." More than beautiful, though she couldn't think of a word to describe it. "How could you make all of this?" she wondered aloud.

"Time," he stated simply from where he was bent down and tying the boat to the shore. "Carlisle had me lead the construction of the opera, and I managed to add a few special touches for myself."

"The _whole_ opera. That could explain why I love it so much." Bella had babbled out before she realized it. Not knowing what to say to remedy her embarrassment, she examined her shoes and let her hair cover her face.

She felt a cold hand gently cup her face and raise, with irresistible strength, her head to meet his eyes. "I'm glad you love Forks as much as I do, Bella." Edward's eyes were the enchanting color of molten gold and Bella found herself nodding along with anything he said. "Your opinion means more to me than you'd ever know. Thank you. Now," his tone of voice became more subdued, "I believe you wanted to ask me some questions?" Edward led her to the closest sofa and sat across from her.

Bella thought for a few moments, raking through the jumbled mess of thoughts and half schemed ideas before making her choice. "Yes, I did. I suppose my first question is the most obvious." She had intended on asking Edward why he wore a mask, or for that matter, how he could be so young, but the look on his face made her shy away. He apparently didn't want to talk about it yet. She back tracked quickly and asked, "Why did you bring me here, Edward? Why now?"

He seemed relieved at her question and answered quickly. "I wanted to see you up close, and have proper conversations with you. I wanted to congratulate you for your amazing success and hear your reply. I wanted you to see me as more than a shadow in the dark, or a figment of your imagination. I wanted to be seen as something more than a nightmare. I…" he broke off for several moments, then seemed to make up his mind and continued in a rush. "I _needed_ you to not think of me as a monster."

Bella did not know how to respond. _Edward_, a _monster?_ That was insanity. "How could you assume that I think you are a monster? Have I insulted you in some way? Because I can assure you that I will always think of you as my angel of music."

"It is kind of you to say so Bella, but I must make one thing clear before we continue. I am no good for you. I know your sweet mind can never see me as such, but I am. Please remember that you can leave here at any moment. I will hold no grudge and I will see you safely to the opera. And, if you wish, I will disappear from your life altogether. Just keep that in mind." She saw in his eyes that he really meant it. She could see, but could barely comprehend, that he was begging her to leave him. That simply could not be done.

Bella jumped to her feet quickly. She was outraged that he can even believe she would _ever_ think that way about himself. "Why Edward! I will not here you speak of yourself in such awful terms! For many years, I have known you as sweet and kind and caring. If you choose to demean yourself in such ways, well, you'll hear from me! Because I lo-" Seeing her slip of the tongue, she speedily rephrased. "I mean, you are my good friend, and I cannot bear to have my good friends spoken of like that!"

Edward was on his feet too, taking three long strides to stand beside her and pulled Bella gently on the sofa next to him. "I swear, Mademoiselle Swan," he joked with his hand over his heart, "that I will not berate myself in your presence, for fear of your awful and terrible wrath. There?" His expression lost the mocking and grew excited. "Now, I have also wished to show you something I have made specifically for you. Do you want to hear it?" He nodded his head toward the organ.

"Is there anything you can't do, Edward?" she asked incredulously. Surly there must be a flaw in him somewhere.

"Yes," Edward answered gravely. "Many things. But, I shall never tell you them, because I want you to continue thinking that I am perfect and without fault. You may have to watch out for my head, Bella, for I fear it is growing larger with your praise already."

He stood up and rapidly rifled through a pile of papers of the coffee table. "Ah! Here it is!" he exclaimed before handing it to Bella. It was a music sheet, written in flowing, elegant script. The title, _Il Mio Cantante_, must have been foreign, for Bella couldn't make out a word of it.

After looking over the beautifully drawn, and complicated, notes, she grew very excited. He had written a song for her, and only her. "Oh, could you please play it for me? I would love to hear it!" She pranced up the stairs in the direction of the organ, but, as she did in the most untimely of moments, she tripped. Edward managed to catch her before she hit the sharp stone stair, but he couldn't save Bella from getting a paper cut on her palm.

As the blood slowly collected on Bella's hand, she felt instantly faint. What didn't help is that she had been fighting this faintness every time Edward was very close to her. Now both situations combined with full force, all Bella could do was what she had been resisting, and that was swoon.

Edward set Bella down and went through a mental list that Carlisle had taught him to go through when inspecting a patient. No, there was nothing serious wrong with her. She just…passed out. Edward was momentarily puzzled, then he cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner. She was queasy around blood. He would have hit himself on the forehead if he didn't already have Bella in his arms.

Holding his breath, though he was so used to the smell it only registered by making him a bit thirstier, he set Bella back down on the couch. He got a pitcher of water and washed her hand gently, preventing any infection that could harm her frail body. At a loss for something else to wrap the cut with, he tore the cuff of his shirt and tied it securely around her palm.

Satisfied with his work, Edward picked Bella up once more and made his way to his bedroom, behind a thin, black curtain. Though he had no need of it, he liked the human feeling of owning a bed. Now that it was useful, he was glad he had had the impulse to make it in the first place.

While he was placing the covers over her, after carefully removing her shoes, Edward felt Bella stir. He backed away and prepared to explain, but she spoke first.

"Edward," she sighed and turned to face him, her eyes still closed.

"Yes, Bella? Do you feel better?" He anxiously took a step forward, but her next words stopped him in his tracks.

"Edward…I love you…always…" She stopped talking altogether and started breathing more evenly.

Even though he could spend eternity without, Edward had ceased breathing. She said she loved him. Loved _him_. Although she was asleep, Bella had admitted feelings toward someone damned. He had no time to spend worrying about her eternal soul, for all his thoughts whirled around how he could make her realize she felt the same way while she was _conscious._

A ringing in the other room caught his attention and pulled him from his thoughts of Bella. The ring was a familiar one; it had been the Cullens only sure way to be in contact with Edward. One of them would pull an unobtrusive looking string behind stage and the bells attached to the other end, and mounted on the wall of his study, would chime loudly. Since all his family had moved to England, that only left…

Jasper. Who was, by the sound of his thought's, very angry.


	6. The Angel in Hell

**I'd like to thank ****Callie Noelle and CullenObsessive, who review every chapter brilliantly. You both are the reason why my ego is so big.**

**For this chapter, keep in mind that Bella and Edward have been in love with each other for quite some time. So, if you think about it, it's not really rushed, just fast-forwarded.**

**Disclaimer: _Checks watch._ Nope, still don't own them. Maybe in the next few minutes! _Waits patiently._**

* * *

The Angel in Hell

Paris, 1870

Jasper rang the bell like there was no tomorrow.

In his mind, the part that wasn't currently berating his brother, he thought that if he made a loud enough racket, Edward would have no other choice then to come and personally make him stop. Jasper did not know that Edward could stop the bell from ringing just by pulling a little switch, but apparently Edward had forgotten too.

Jasper could sense a cloud of annoyance and disappointment rocketing toward him mere seconds before a hand as pale as his own came out of the darkness and pulled his hand away. Edward was here, but he looked livid. And, Jasper was surprised to see that the normally immaculate Edward was rather worse for wear. His hair was a windblown mess from running, he had forgotten his usual cloak, and his cuff was torn off from his left arm. What had he been up to?

"Stop!" he hissed. "What the hell are you doing? One ring would have sufficed, and you could have woken up B-" He stopped suddenly to cover up his mistake, but Japer felt the love shoot through Edward's anger with hope.

"_Bella_? You mean _Bella Swan_, the girl you kidnapped?" Jasper raged. He never lost check of his emotions, imagine the chaos if he did, but right now this was the closest he had ever been to doing so. He was so caught up in this adrenaline-pumping sensation that he failed to see that it was effecting Edward and making him steadily as angry as Jasper himself. _You made Alice cry, Edward. _Cry._ Alice is a sweet, wonderful girl and you take away the only family that she has! I don't care about myself, but if you hurt Alice with your actions, I'll take it as a personal offense. _Without knowing what he was doing, Jasper crouched down for attack and his not so long dead military mind speeded up to pick out any of his new opponent's weak spots.

"I never intended to hurt your precious Alice!" Edward spat, but he too crouched down, and the next thing he said came out in a low growl. "Do you think I am so heartless and shallow that I'd intentionally cause pain to Bella's friend? _To Bella_?" Their feral instincts took over their tired, overwrought minds and they both pounced at each other. In a blur of arms and legs, they dodged, punched, and attacked faster than any human eye could follow.

Edward's advantage was useless in such spontaneous combat. He could only move quickly to avoid Jasper's years of expertise. When he felt himself start to become overcome, Edward flew through the lists in his mind of where he could go. He could lead Jasper into a trap. No, too risky; he might see the door which Edward had to escape to. He looked around quickly and saw a single rope hanging from the ceiling and leading to the rafters where the stage hands worked. He was about to throw a final punch then flee when he heard Jasper suddenly think…

_The mask. I must only remove his mask; then he will be vulnerable. It's his weakness._

A rage so profound filled Edward so suddenly after this thought that Jasper hurriedly realized the mistake he had made. How could he? After everything, this was to be their undoing.

Now the fight between brothers he had been winning had instantly changed sides. Edward fought with his full repertoire of tricks and cheats. The fact that his own family would go _so low_ pushed his prideful dignity far behind him. If Jasper was willing to fight dirty, then Edward would triumph. The hurt and chagrin that was winding its way around Edward was now suffocating Jasper, and when Edward threw a blow to his face, all he could do was fall defenseless to the ground.

And it was there, seeing Jasper cringe in the corner and wait for his due, that Edward stopped. Why was he doing this? Why was he ruining one of his few ties to friends and family? How did it come to this? This was the first time that Edward saw himself as a monster through his _actions_, not his birth or for what he was.

The swift change from murderous frenzy to horrified self contempt made Jasper raise his head. He saw Edward for what he really was then. Not the violent and vengeful astray child of Carlisle and Esme, but someone lost; someone who had nowhere to turn because he had pushed the people who cared away.

Here was a standoff, and it knocked down both of their carefully built up walls and defenses. Their eyes bored into each other and they waited for who would make the first move. Both were disgusted with themselves, but neither wanted to back down. They had to end this somehow, and Jasper believed this had gone too far for words to repair it. But, as he usually did, Edward surprised Jasper by speaking.

"Jasper," Edward whispered so softly, even Jasper had to strain his ears to hear. "I am sorry. Please, forgive me." His very expression was the epitome of rejection and dismayed resignation. He stopped for a moment, seemed to make a decision, then he turned his back to Jasper abruptly and barked out a harsh laugh. "But," he continued, a hard tone of calculated indifference in his voice, "why would you do that? I have caused pain and sorrow all through my life, to everyone who has known me, why shouldn't I continue now? Go, you can take Alice and…_Bella_, and take them to safety; far away from here. From _me_." His velvet voice broke in anguish when he uttered the last word.

Jasper was caught in a brief moment of uncertainty that seemed to last a lifetime. Finally, he made up his mind, and got up. He would not break the bonds of family that Carlisle tried so hard to keep together. Slowly and silently, he walked to Edward, with extra care not to make a sudden movement that could be misconstrued as an attack. Jasper reached his hand up and grasped Edward's shoulder to turn him. The broken expression on his brother's face made Jasper's heart run cold. He had caused this and ruined the moment when Edward was truly happy with Bella.

_Edward, it is _I_ who is sorry. But this…this ploy to distance yourself from anyone you think could hurt you must stop. Trust in those who care, especially Bella. Do not assume that we will desert you as some have done before. Have faith, because I'm not leaving Forks, and neither will Alice or Bella. This is as much our home as it is yours. _With one pat on the shoulder and an encouraging smile, Jasper turned his back and let Edward have his privacy.

Edward stood there for several more moments, letting his gratitude and hope show through on his face despite his precautions. _Yes, _he pondered_, I have my family. And, _his smile widened_, I have my Bella._

000

"Deformed and hideous since birth, the _phantom _is the cause for all our troubles in Forks. He is the son of the devil, with beady eyes as terrifying as your darkest dreams, and there is a great black hole in the stead of the nose that never grew. Scarred and vengeful, he picks his prey from _beautiful, young, ladies._"

Tyler Crowley paused a moment to let his words sink in slowly. He had thought they would be the most ominous and striking of all in his little tale. He was, of course, telling it to a room full of the actresses and dancers who were just like the women he had described.

"You must be always on your guard, ladies," he continued, "or this horrifying beast will catch you with his _magical lasso_." Tyler produced a rope tied in a noose, and wrapped it around a pretty blond thing to his left, pulling her close to him. He was about to place a kiss on her red lips when-

"Crowley!" cried a voice from the opposite side of the room. "What on _earth_ do you think you are doing?" Then Monsieur Hale, the rude interloper, and the past owner's little pretty boy son, came quickly in front of him.

"Sir, I…well, you see…It was just a story…I-" Tyler's stammered explanation was quickly stopped short by Jasper.

"Just a story! Ha!" he snarled while freeing the poor roped girl and giving the rest a look that sent them running. He snatched the rope from Tyler and waved it furiously in front of his face. "Those who speak of what they know," he growled, "find too late that prudent silence is wise. Tyler Crowley, hold your tongue!" Jasper grasped Tyler's collar and pushed him against the wall. "Keep your hand at the level of your eyes!" He threw the noose around his neck and pulled tightly, causing Tyler to gag, before tossing him to the ground like a rag doll.

When Monsieur Hale was out of sight, Tyler straightened up and feverishly yanked the rope off. What had ruffled his feathers so? It couldn't have been the blond, because everyone knew he was sweet on Mademoiselle Brandon. It could have been the mention of the phantom, but the common reaction was one of fright, not anger towards the speaker. This rather piqued Monsieur Crowley's interest. Jasper Hale wanted to defend the opera ghost.

And Tyler intended to find out why.

000

Edward was seated at his mammoth organ and mechanically playing Esme's favorite song. Though his fingers were occupied, his mind had nothing to distract him from what Jasper had said. Perhaps he _did_ have to let someone past his defenses and into his heart. The thought of doing so terrified and bewildered Edward, who had always thrived on knowing where he stood and having complete control. He was torn between continuing on as he was, alone but sure of himself, and stepping out and actually _living_ his life, or what was left of it.

If he disregarded Jasper's advice, he would most certainly lose Bella. That was something, particularly because of her sleeping confession, that Edward deemed impossible. It would cause him physical pain to part with his love now. He would fight to the ends of the earth to stay with Bella and make her utterly happy and blissful. But would she want him? Maybe her sigh of "I love you" had been nothing more than a fluke and she hadn't meant it.

As if by divine intervention, Edward heard a soft shuffling of feet and saw the curtain to his room open slowly. She was more beautiful than he could imagine, though a bit ruffled in appearance from her sleep, and he stood up to greet her.

She smiled widely at the sight of him and sighed happily. "I had thought it was all a dream. It seemed too good to be true."

Her voice made Edward's dead heart soar and he returned her grin. "Good morning, Mademoiselle Swan." He bowed extravagantly, "I have gotten you breakfast from the kitchens. May I escort you to your seat?"

Bella giggled at his light hearted mood and took his offered arm. "Why, Monsieur Cullen, I would love to."

Edward led her down the stairs to the polished dining room table. There was such a vast array of dishes with eggs, meat, pastries, fruits and foods that Bella couldn't even name that her head was spinning. "Wow, I don't ever remember getting this kind of service from the kitchen before." After a moment of consideration, she decided on a cherry tart and sat down.

The only reason why Bella was getting this selection of breakfast was because Edward had snuck into the kitchen and swiped the plates that were meant for both Monsieur Clapp and Banner. But she didn't have to know this. "You're a star now, Bella. You deserve only the best."

Bella blushed and changed the subject as quickly as she could. "What happened last night? I only remember until up where I cut my finger then…" She looked down and saw the bandage around her hand, and then the missing cuff on Edward's shirt and her blush deepened. "Oh. Thank you, and sorry for…passing out on you."

"It was no trouble at all," he reassured, and because he couldn't resist, he added, "Did you know you talk in your sleep?"

Bella blanched and buried her head in her hands. "What did you hear?" _I hope it wasn't embarrassing. I hope it wasn't embarrassing. I hope it wasn't embarrassing, _she chanted in her mind over and over in hopes that it could somehow become true. Charlie had always said she'd chatter more in her sleep than she did while awake.

Her horror doubled when Edward grinned. "I'll tell you another time."

Bella threw her half-eaten tart to the plate and glared at him. "I've suddenly lost my appetite." She ignored his laughter, but brightened up when she thought of something. "Edward, do you still want to play me the song you wrote? I'd love to hear it." She stood up from her seat and started to make her way to the coffee table on the other platform, but Edward stopped her.

At her questioning glance, he answered "After what happened last time, I don't trust you to even come within two feet of any piece of paper without my supervision." He grabbed the sheet music from the table himself and led her carefully to the organ. Edward sat down in the wonderfully crafted seat and pulled Bella along by his side.

He stared a Bella for several moments, so intensely that Bella found she couldn't look anywhere but into his golden gaze, unaware that her heart had doubled in its rhythm. Edward seemed to take comfort from something in her eyes because he soon turned around and began to play.

Bella immediately froze the moment his lithe fingers began moving rapidly across the ivory keys. The sound that emitted from the instrument was so alluring and bewitching she couldn't have walked away from it if she even wanted to. It started off slow and heartbreaking; the lower notes echoing bitterly off the rock walls. But then, the music seamlessly grew excited and climbed higher and sweeter. She didn't know why, but the song sounded…_hopeful_. Yes, hopeful was the right word. The song tugged at her heartstrings and grabbed her soul like none other had ever done before. It broke your heart and built it back up again. By the time the song came to an end, unbearably dulcet and melodious, Bella had tears in her eyes.

Edward turned in his chair and was shocked to see that Bella was crying. Hoping to console her, but mostly to feel her warm skin, he slowly brought his hand up to Bella's face. The feeling that coursed through his fingers was better than he had imagined. He rubbed his thumb in circles under her eye, wiping away her tears.

While savoring his touch, Bella comprehended that she needed more contact with Edward. She needed to feel his icy skin beneath her hand. Feeling no embarrassment, she stretched her hand out for his face and he, seeing what she wanted, ducked his head so she could reach it more easily. Bella now traced the perfect features she had wanted to touch since she had seen him. She ran her fingers through his tousled and silky hair, down his angular nose, and across the deep bruise like shadow under one of his closed eyes.

But this was not enough. She couldn't settle for just one side of his face. Bella felt electricity from a sudden rush of adrenalin tingle her fingers. She tried to restrain them, but a curiosity that had been unknowingly growing in her was forcing them to continue closer, and closer, to the white mask that lay across her angel's face. Her fingers brushed against Edward's lips and he sighed, his sweet breath put Bella in a daze, but still her hand moved on. Hating herself, but unable to stifle the need to know what was underneath it, Bella pulled the mask off.

Before she knew it, Bella was thrown down on the floor and Edward was on his feet across the room; his hand splayed across the right side of his face and a look of betrayal that broke her heart on the left.

"Damn you!" Edward yelled in a voice biting and cruel to hide his misery. "You little prying Pandora!" He was suddenly on the other side of the room, pulling down one of the hanging drapes. There was a mirror behind it, but from the angle that Bella was at, she couldn't see anything but his back. "Is this what you wanted to see? Curse you!" He turned over a heavy table faster than Bella's eyes could follow, sending papers scattering everywhere. Then, he was on his knees beside her, his hand once more covering his face. "Why?" he whispered. "_Why?_"

Rage induced tears streamed down Bella's face as she stammered out, "I…I needed to know, Edward. I couldn't help it. I am so…_so_ sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen, but I _needed _to know _what_ you are. You've been around for years, tutoring me and building this," she motioned at the room they were in, "when you're young; as young as I am! How can that be?" She raised herself onto her knees and shuffled closer to Edward. "_Please_."

His face contorted into mockery and he was off his knees and pacing back and forth before her rapidly. "Do not trifle with me, Bella. I'm stranger than you've dreamt it. Can you even bear to look, or dare to think of me? Your _angel of music_, Bella, is nothing but an angel in hell! And yet, knowing what I am, I still secretly yearn for heaven." He crouched once more in front of her. "Secretly yearn for a beauty that is beyond my reach…" Edward no longer was sarcastic, but only a lonesome sadness marred his velvet voice. He stroked his fingers along the side of her face, leaving burning trails of cold, and continued. "Love can't come from fear. Even if you'll learn to see, to find, the man _behind_ this thing that seems a beast, but secretly dreams of beauty…" He looked at Bella with some indescribable expression etched into his face. "_Oh, Bella_…"

Bella leaned over and picked up the thrown off mask. She stared at it contemplatively, a tear falling from her face and sliding down its side, before she handed it to Edward. He took it, turned around and placed it on. And he stood that way for an immeasurable amount of time, looking off in thought.

"You may go now, Bella. Forget the boat; pull the candelabra in the study and a passageway will open. Follow the path and you will be in the prop room. Just…forget what you have seen." Edward didn't even spare her a glance as he walked steadily away and sat at his organ.

"Why?" Bella questioned, for she refused to give up; she needed to correct her mistake. "Why must I pull the candelabra in the study when I can just as easily stay here? Unless…" A crippling self-consciousness spread through Bella. "Unless you…don't want me." When he didn't respond, she started walking away. "Oh. I see. I guess I'll just…leave." She was just coming to the stairs leading to the accursed study when something icy clasped her arm.

"Wait," Edward's silken voice sounded by her ear. "Are you not afraid?"

Now Bella was confused. "Of what?"

"Me, of course. Why do you seem regretful to leave when you ought to be running and screaming for the door?"

Bella turned on her heel and stared into his eyes. "I don't think it's possible for me to ever be afraid of you, Edward. I…I care for you too much. No matter what you look like, you'll always be my angel of music. I don't know how you move so quickly or stay young, but I do know that nothing could keep me from you. Except you, that is, because if you want me to leave, I will." She made another attempt to leave, to get away from her humiliating rejection, but Edward's grip held fast.

"Edward!" Bella cried. "Let me go! I understand you do not wish to have me here, so I will leave. I'll even leave the opera if you choose, and I will go willingly and gladly, for I cannot bear to stay here and become nothing to you. Goodbye Edward." Yet still he held her.

"No," Edward finally spoke, "No, I will not let you leave. I have pushed away too many people to be able to bear the pain of losing the most important of them all. I have been a fool. Stay here, with me, Bella, and I can promise you that you will _always_ be my everything." He gathered her in his arms and pulled her to his chest. "You already are."

Bella pulled back and her eyes searched his face for some hint that he was lying, but found none. He had an excited gleam in his eyes and he looked oddly like his song for her; hopeful. But to save herself the heartache of a potential rebuff, she steeled herself and accused, "You jest with me, Monsieur."

"Indeed no," he persisted. "I mean every word I speak. You said you cared for me Bella, but do you think it can stand against what I am? Do you think it can stand the horror?" he pleaded with her beseechingly.

"If you mean what you say, then I should do the same. Yes, I care for you. So much so that I am quite positive anything you say you are will not scare me off."

"Good," was Edward's reply before he led her to a nearby chair and gestured for her to take a seat. He resumed his pacing and asked, "What if, Bella, I told you I am not human? What would you do if I was something you have only heard of in fairy tales and in your worst dreams? What if I was something dark, and unnatural; something that shouldn't even exist?" He was kneeling at her side with Bella's hands in his so quickly she jumped in surprise. "Would you have me then?"

While he had been speaking, Bella's perceptive mind was piecing together what he meant. She saw that he was, as he had stated, unnatural. What else could be used to describe the speed, the beauty, the grace, and the _voice_? She suddenly recalled his family, the Cullens. She had known them since she was a young girl, and they had never aged. Bella had not thought much of it, but if they had stayed, other people might have. Perhaps _that_ is why they left. But none of this mattered to Bella. She reasoned that if the Cullens, who she had seen as nothing but kind, and Edward, who unknowingly had her heart, were something different from the human race, then they could not be dangerous. Bella answered, "Always," with no hesitation.

Edward scrutinized her expression, but continued. "Always? Hmm…perhaps you need an actual name with which you can call your terror. What about the living dead, Bella? Could you ever think to give your heart to one who needs another's blood to survive? Would you think me awful and terrible; the scourge of the earth?"

"No," Bella continued stubbornly, "you'd still be Edward Cullen to me." Though she couldn't quite grasp the idea completely, she was beginning to see it in his actions. How his eyes flitted back and forth at dizzying speeds that saw everything. How even in an agitated state like this, his face never grew flushed. How his eyes were growing darker and darker in his frustration. How his mind jumped from one scenario and conclusion to another in rapid succession. Bella had no doubt that he was inhuman, but to her that didn't mean he lacked the soul of any other.

"Edward Cullen! Who is that but a monster? Bella, I am a _bloodsucker_. The dead that walk the earth. A _vampire_," he spat. "I sustain myself through the lives of others! Something so damned does not deserve the heart of an angel as pure and beautiful as you." He held her hand in his tightly for a moment, then let it go and walked dejectedly away from her.

"Edward," Bella's sweet voice sternly called after him, "I thought I told you never to speak of yourself poorly. I am quite ashamed of you for breaking your promise."

He whipped around in a second, incredulous at what she had said. "That's all? That's _all_ your reaction to my admitting I'm an unholy creature of the dead?" Edward couldn't understand how she could take this so lightly. She even scolded him!

"I have told you already Edward," Bella said patiently, "I care too much for you to care about what you are. You say you don't deserve my heart, but you've had it for years. It's too late to turn back now, and turning back is the last thing I want to do."

Edward stood there a moment, not sure how to react. Bella was worried he might be angry at her, for what she was not sure, but then his face practically split in two when he grinned at her. He rushed forward and took her into his arms, spinning her in the air like a child.

Bella gave a yelp of surprise, but enthusiastically joined his happy laughter. She had never seen him this happy, and she felt her love for him double at the sight of it. His eyes became vibrant, his smile sparkled, and he held her close, without restraint. Bella secretly vowed to try and make him as happy as she could.

"Is it true then?" he murmured softly when he set her down, a lovely smile adorning his face. "Is it true that little Bella Swan is finally mine?"

"Yes," sighed Bella happily. She grabbed his hand and pressed it against her cheek, making sure that this was all actually happening to her. "For as long as you want me."

Edward leaned forward and pressed his lips to Bella's other cheek. Her breath caught in her throat when he whispered in her ear, "Then you are mine forever, my sweet." As his lips inched closer to her mouth, tracing along the line of her jaw, she could only lock her hands weakly around his neck.

Though Edward's mouth was in such a close proximity, but moving so slowly she felt as though she were about to scream, she didn't feel the least bit afraid. His confession had, all in all, only been a tidy explanation of the things she had already suspicious of. Now, Bella only felt the need that he would stop torturing her and just-

A bell rang from the study.

Edward, who had at that moment been thanking his lucky stars that Jasper had given him such wonderful and effective advice, took it all back. He sighed heavily, straightened up, and sifted through the minds of those above him.

_-point, step. Ball, point, step. I need to get this right or I'll be-_

_Oh, I do so hate going through these corridors alone. What if Tyler was right?_

_Messieurs Clapp and Banner seem awful angry; I wonder why._

_-disappears, now I have no breakfast! What else will-_

_Edward! Hello, Edward! Bella _must_ come up now! Everyone's frantic with her disappearance! They'll start asking questions and I can't keep them sidetracked any longer. Thanks to a stagehand, you're already suspected. Not directly of course, but as a myth and rumor. In order to remain hidden, Bella _has_ to come back._

At Bella's questioning, perhaps even disappointed, look brought Edward back from Jasper's thoughts and the still ringing bell. "Come," he said sadly. "We must go. Those fools who run my opera," and he did include Jasper, "will be missing you."

Bella only nodded dismally and gripped his hand tighter. _What had been so important about the bell_? she wondered.

Edward was thinking something much more pointedly, though. And you couldn't blame him, because it seemed true at the moment. _Jasper, you spoil everything. _He only wished, for the first time, that Jasper could hear his thoughts.


	7. Welcome Back

**It was inexcusable that I took so long to update, so I will offer no excuse.**

**While making the third part of this, I realized that I could never do justice to the scene where the phantom's letters are delivered to the owners, Carlotta, and the vicomte. Since it doesn't twist with my plot change, I would have nothing to do but repeat everything they say. Which, without the singing, isn't really entertaining. So, I cut it to where Jasper (Madame Giry) comes in and says that Bella (Christine) is back. It makes sense, but if you _really _want to see it, because it is a great scene, I would suggest renting the movie.**

**Disclaimer: Though I quote them extensively, I don't own _Twilight_ or _Phantom of the Opera_.**

* * *

Welcome Back

Paris, 1870

Once again in the dark and hidden corridors Edward had constructed, he led Bella on the path to her room. Both were silent in their own thoughts, but it was a comfortable silence. Edward held Bella's hand in his, and she reveled in the cold delight of it, though she was thankful for the cloak Edward had loaned her to keep warm.

"Edward," she asked after a few moments, "when will I get to see you again?" The thought of them parting so soon after (almost) confessing their love to each other made Bella clutch his hand tighter.

Edward sensed her panic and smiled softly. "Soon, my dear. Soon. As we speak, our managers are beginning preparations for the newest opera, _Il Muto_. If all goes according to my plans, you shall be gracing the audience as lead. Not that they weren't already going to cast you; you're the only female soprano and after your performance last night, they'd be crazy not to give you the part. You deserve it. And, for there will be much practice needed as the lead, you will continue your lessons with your _tutor_. So don't fret, we'll be seeing each other very often."

Bella sighed in relief at his response, but all the reassurance he gave her disappeared when something sank in. "Wait! I'm going to be the lead? _Edward_! I thought that it would only be a one time thing with _Hannibal_! I can't-"

"Yes," Edward interrupted, "you can." He stopped walking and took her face in his hands. "Don't think that I didn't see the way you relished being under the lights, in front of all those people. You may be shy, but whilst singing, you are fearless and give yourself completely to the music. It would be cruel to deny the world of your talent."

As much as Bella hated to admit it, he was right. She lost all her insecurities and was uninhibited. The brief time she spent in someone else's life on stage was not only exciting, but refreshing. Bella wished she could always feel so confidant and graceful in real life, but once she stepped off the stage, everything disappeared and she was just Bella again.

"What about you?" Bella couldn't stop herself from asking. "You, who are far more talented than I, have locked yourself away from everyone."

Edward's face darkened slightly and he looked down, dropping his hands. "It's different; they wouldn't want to hear me. You forget too easily what I am, sweet Bella."

"Well," she responded cheerily, trying to erase his unhappy expression, "_I_ know someone who wants to know you. Alice, my best friend. Would you mind meeting her? I won't be able to stop smiling after today, and I would like to be able to explain why to Alice."

"How can I resist such pleading eyes in a beautiful, and now blushing, face? Yes, I will meet your Alice, but I don't think she likes me very much." In fact, from the course of her thoughts, not at all.

"How can you know that?" Bella insisted. "She was perfectly amicable when I spoke to her last."

"Yes, I have no doubt that she was for your sake. Let's just say, though, that I am very good at reading people. She blames me for all the things that have ever gone wrong with the opera, and hates the fear I cause. I don't disagree with her, either." He looked down, rather sheepish. "She also doesn't think I'm good for you."

Bella frowned. "How can you know any of that? I still don't believe that she thinks those things." She raised her chin defiantly and crossed her arms, showing that she wouldn't be swayed.

Happy for the challenge, Edward leaned close and whispered in Bella's ear, "Can I trust you with a secret?" He smiled to himself at the shiver that ran through Bella's body, and the increasing heartbeat. She nodded weakly and he continued. "I...can_ read minds_."

"Ha ha_, very funny_," Bella snapped. "That wasn't nice to lead me on like that!" She looked up to glare at him, but stopped at the patient, rather amused, expression of sincerity. "You are joking, aren't you?" He shook his head, then smiled as all the blood in Bella's body seemed to collect in her face. "Edward, you didn't…I mean, did you…hear all the things I've thought of you? Oh, my…" While continuing to speak, she buried her head in her hands. "I so _so_ sorry," her muffled voice sounded, "for what I thought back there, when you…and I…when we…oh no… What must you think of me?"

"I," Edward soothed, sorry he had dragged on her misery, "think you are the most magnificent and beautiful women that ever walked the earth. I think you are kind and sweet and forgiving, if not insane, to want me. I think you can do no wrong, even if you try. I also know that I can't hear what _you_ think. You are my one exception."

Bella's head whipped back so fast she thought she heard a crack. "So, you didn't hear anything I thought? You aren't just being nice and trying to stop my suffering?"

"No, I heard nothing. But," he grinned, a playful edge in his words, "if you're willing to continue, I would be more than glad to listen to what you thought of me. Oh, how about I guess? Did you think I was terribly dashing? Perhaps that my vast intellect and dizzying talent overshadowed any of my disadvantages? Were you pondering over my fine eyes, or fondly remembering your lullaby? No? You're shaking your head, but the lovely blush remains, so it _must_ be embarrassing. Hmm…I'm all out of ideas. Would you mind telling me?" he pleaded, the joking tone somewhat becoming serious. With Bella as his talent's one exception, he was constantly at a loss for what lay behind her actions and what her _real_ reactions were behind her carefully blank face. She edited her thoughts, and Edward was the one that suffered in his confusion. If she told him what she thought, though, that'd be biggest relief Edward could think of for his state of mind.

But Bella wasn't cooperating. She would never be able to admit that down in Edward's house, when he had been leaning in so close, she had only been thinking of having his lips on hers. Just the thought of the wanting made Bella's face turn a crimson red to Edward's amusement. She shook her head and changed the subject. "How does it work? The mind reading, I mean."

Edward sighed. Not only did she edit, but she also withheld information. "Fine, I will humor you, but do not think that I am so easily distracted. It's as if…" he paused in thought for a moment. "It's like being backstage, before a performance; everyone talking at the same time, saying different things. I can focus in on a particular strain of thought if I choose, just as you can tune into someone's conversation. I generally don't do this, though. It's all very disconcerting." He said this all very coolly, as if he were talking of the weather instead of a vampiric super power.

Bella drew a deep breath and asked, "Do all…_vampires_…" she felt rather guilty saying this, like she had just broken an unwritten law, "…read minds?" Then, she realized something. Even though she knew the Cullens were like Edward, the fact had not fully hit her yet. "You mean, Jasper could have been reading my mind all along?" _Oh no! _she thought with horror._ Now _he_ knows what I thought of Edward! And he could be listening _right now_!_

Edward chuckled once more, not needing to read her mind to know what she was thinking. "No, no, only I can. Or, I am the only one I know that can." He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "Perhaps I should explain this better. Carlisle believes that during our change into what we are, for I was once human Bella, that everything becomes enhanced, including our traits. I was talented at understanding people. I could tell what they were thinking by their actions and body language. So my transformation not only aggrandized my body, senses, and mind, but my skills as well. This happened to my whole family; Carlisle's compassion, Esme's love, Emmett's strength, and Rosalie's…_beauty_, or self regard. Jasper though, he has a rather unique talent. He was very impressionable to emotions. When he changed, he became able to feel and manipulate the temper of others." He stopped talking when Bella's face froze in shock. "What is it? Is anything wrong?"

Bella grasped his hand before speaking. "Alice…she's in love with him. Do you think that he could have…_caused_ it?"

Edward smiled gently before responding, "No. I know Jasper, probably better than he knows himself, and I can assure you he is as in love with Alice…as I am with you." He looked up, expecting to see horrified disgust, but, as always, Bella surprised him.

Unable to contain the overwhelming joy that grew within her, Bella jumped, threw her arms around Edward's stone neck, and whispered in his ear, "I love you too; I always have." She rested her head on his shoulder before muttering to herself, "It _has_ to be a dream. Is it possible for someone to be this happy?"

"Yes," Edward laughed. "And I shall make it a point that we live happily ever after." He set her down and ran his hand down the side of her face, "Never have I had such hope for my future as I do now." He leaned in and Bella's breath caught.

With only bare inches between their faces, she felt the wanting come back. His scent enveloped and clouded her other senses. He was so close that she could only see Edward's lovely eyes; large and striking. Bella unconsciously drew herself up and stretched her neck slightly, closing the space between them.

Edward paused. He could be overestimating himself. From his years, and years, in the opera, he had grown accustomed to Bella and her wonderful, freesia like blood. But maybe he wouldn't be able to handle such close and intimate proximity. His mind and his body fought furiously for the span of two seconds before his body, and heart, won. He took an unneeded breath, and closed the gap between him and Bella, gently pressing his lips to hers.

It was a small, chaste kiss, but it sent Bella into sensory overload. She couldn't handle his icy lips kissing her softly, the feel of his silken hair underneath her fingers, or the utter protection that was provided by his strong arms around her. With her heart beating erratically, her nerves shot with an indescribable feeling of pleasure, and her mind unable to function, her body did the only thing it could to stop these odd behaviors.

She fainted.

At the feeling of her body going limp, Edward stopped. Why did she always have to pass out at the best of moments? He picked her up and placed his cold hand on her forehead. At his touch, she stirred slightly and opened her eyes.

"Not again…" she murmured. "You must think I can barely stay conscious. Set me down, I can stand up just fine." She hesitated for a second, before adding, "I'm sorry for passing out…again… I guess I…forgot how to breathe." She looked down shyly and blushed deeper.

"Oh, Bella," Edward groaned. "What am I going to do with you?" He gave her a wry smile and continued their walk to her room.

"Edward?" she asked. "How long until we get back?"

"It ought to be a ten or fifteen minute walk from here. Why? Are you sick of me already?" he joked. Or, he hoped it was a joke. She couldn't really be tired of him already. Could she? Or, was the kiss really that bad that she wanted to get away as fast as she could?

Bella laughed and grabbed his hand. "No, just the opposite, actually. How about we walk more slowly, Edward? I bet we could tack on at least ten more minutes if we put our minds to it."

Edward chuckled and eased his pace to match hers. He smiled gladly while wrapping his arm around her waist. "Agreed."

000

"Jasper," Alice pleaded for the umpteenth time, "what is taking them so long? Are you sure he wouldn't hurt her? How can you know if he's even coming at all? She could be down there – trapped – and we wouldn't even know!" Now clinging at straws, she proposed, "Couldn't we just follow the path through the mirror and find her ourselves? It'd probably be faster than the pace that they are going at! Or we could-" Jasper had been unable to take it any longer and finally got up and covered Alice's mouth with his hand.

"Please Alice," he reasoned. "Have some trust; if not for _him_, then for me. I know he'll bring her back completely unharmed. Let's just relax until they arrive." Jasper settled back down into a chair beside the fire and started reading a book that was on the table.

"Ngh," was Alice's unintelligible answer. She gave up on trying to convince him further and paced back and forth across Bella's bedroom, picking up more discarded clothes and trinkets. _My my,_ she thought tiredly, _what a mess the vicomte made in here. _But in several minutes time, which felt like hours to Alice, the room was spotless, and she was once more bored.

"Jasper?" she called sweetly – too sweetly. "Since we have so much time, why don't you tell me how you know the phantom?" She lithely pranced to the seat opposite his and looked up expectedly. Her eyes blinked innocently.

Sighing, he closed the book he hadn't been paying any attention to. "I thought we were going to talk about this-"

"Later." Alice finished. "Yes, yes, I know. But this _is_ later than when you said that, and it seems as good a time as any." She said this all with the simple conviction of one who goes through life rarely, if ever, doubting herself.

"Fine," Jasper gave up. He was going to eventually, so why not now? "If you are so interested then I will tell you. He's my brother; adopted, of course." He spoke slowly and clearly, only the way he clipped his words showed his aggravation and worry.

"B-brother? He lived with Monsieur and Madame Cullen too?" Alice gasped. "Have I ever seen him?"

"Yes, he's my brother, and no, he's neither lived with our parents nor been within your sight. When Carlisle and Esme moved here, he was with them as well. He actually built most of this opera. It was all his plans and designs; he is very talented." Alice was about to ask another question, many more questions, in fact, but Jasper held up his forefinger to his lips for silence. He gestured for her to turn around and pointed to the mirror. "Why don't you ask him questions yourself? He's coming with Bella right now."

As if on cue, joyful laughing could be heard echoing in the walls behind the slightly open mirror/door. Alice did not recognize one of the voices, which was surely the most musical she had ever heard, but when Bella came into sight, stumbling slightly over the raised lip, Alice forgot about her mysterious escort and launched herself across the room and gave Bella a life-threatening hug.

"You," she scolded, "must _never ever _go off like that! You could have at least told me first! I was so worried! Oh, when I came to check on you, and heard from the vicomte that you had disappeared, my heart stopped! _Never ever_ do that again!" Alice's eyes quickly swept over the length of her body, trying to find any bruises or ailment, but Bella looked fine. Better than fine, actually, she looked much happier than Alice had ever seen her before.

"Alice, please!" Bella laughed. "I need to breathe!" She disentangled herself from Alice's grasp and stepped back out of her short reach. "Besides, I had a good reason to leave, and his name is Edward." She stepped away and let a man emerge from the mirror. "Alice, this is Edward. Edward, this is my best friend Alice. I'm so glad you finally get to meet."

Edward was a tall, handsome man, with the same skin color and eyes as Jasper. But, unlike Jasper, he had a small, half mask covering his grinning, deviant face. Alice straightened up and coolly looked him up and down. Her sharp eyes saw the excellent quality, and style, of his clothing; from the gleaming knee-high boots and fitted black trousers to the simple white shirt, with a mysteriously missing cuff. There was also the luxurious black velvet cape that Bella was swaddled in; it was too long and too heavy to belong to her. Even the mask was elegant and refined. Alice couldn't help but approve.

The man, who looked more like a boy their age, gave a genteel bow and announced in a velvet voice, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle Brandon." He graciously disregarded her gaping expression, and some rather well chosen insults she was unknowingly hurling at him in her mind, and continued. "I have finally brought Bella back. I'm sorry for any inconvenience or worry I have caused you."

She smiled stiffly and dropped a small curtsey, for Bella's benefit. She still didn't trust this _Edward_, and she had a feeling that he knew it. That he knew many things about her. No, she needed to get Bella alone and reason with her about this whole mess. She looked into Bella's excited face and decided that she couldn't do it. How could she ruin the thing that made her so happy? Alice supposed she would just have to listen to what Bella has to say, then improvise from there.

Seeing Jasper beckon him from the other side of the room, Edward gave his leave and joined him by the fireplace. He was reluctant to leave Bella under the persuasive vindictiveness of her friend, but Jasper seemed agitated.

_I feel as though I must tell you what the managers have been discussing. Since Bella has _disappeared_, they want to beg Jessica Stanley to return. Not only return, though, but they are going to offer double her salary and a full staff employed only to serve and pamper her. And they are going to buy all these splendors with the money set aside to pay you._

Edward sighed heavily. His mind started thinking of ways to…_persuade _Messieurs Clapp and Banner to see things his way. "I will think of something to stop this," he told Jasper. "Thank you for bringing it to my attention. Now," he said, pulling a letter from inside his waistcoat, "would you be so kind as to deliver this to them?"

Jasper nodded, then gazed to where the two girls were speaking in low, hushed voices they could hear perfectly. _How are things with Bella?_ he asked. _How much does she know?_

"Everything," Edward replied. "Well, almost everything; there are still a few more topics which have only been grazed over." He subconsciously ran his hand along his mask, but stopped when he realized what he was doing. Embarrassed, he turned his attention to what Bella was saying.

"…and best of all, Alice, he says he loves me! Me!" She was about to say more, but Edward had quickly stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She stopped short and blushed a deep crimson at knowing he had heard.

"Yes, I do," Edward divulged in a stage whisper, a proud smile on his face. "But," he continued, "I must take my leave, I'm sorry to say. There are matters that must be attended to and they will continue to be neglected if I am distracted by your pretty face. Goodbye." He bent down and placed a gentle kiss on Bella's cheek. He looked down at Alice, smiled and said, "It was nice meeting you, Mademoiselle Brandon, I hope that we can cross paths again" before leaving through the mirror.

He stopped when out of their sight, listening.

"Yes," Edward heard Jasper call from what sounded like the door he was opening. "I'm afraid I have similar matters. We'll continue our talk later Alice, and it's good to have you back, Bella." Not waiting for an answer, he disappeared out the door and left Alice and Bella alone.

_Look how happy she is,_ Alice mused before asking, "What happened? Tell me _everything_; from when Jacob entered to now. Skip no details." The gentle rustle of fabric told Edward that they were seated on the sofa.

"Oh, Jacob!" Bella cried. "I forgot all about Jacob! What did he do? I feel awful for just abandoning him without a word, or even a note, for him." Edward's smug satisfaction over the _vicomte_ dissolved when they continued speaking of him.

Alice's thoughts were in confusion as she tried to find the words to explain. _What can I say? 'The vicomte, who's in love with you, left to get his coat, and when he came back he heard a male voice, broke down your door to rescue you, and tore apart your room in his anger'? No._ "He was very worried, but I told him you'd be back by morning. He should be coming later to check on you." _There, that was good, _Alice applauded herself. _True, but with nothing to make Bella feel guilty._

"Good," Bella sighed in relief. "When he came in, I didn't know what to do. He wanted to take me out to dinner, but it was much too late. I tried to protest, but he wouldn't hear a word of it and left. I was about…"

But Alice wasn't paying attention to what Bella was saying. She was lost in a daze that Edward had only heard her thoughts during one other time. He could see that her eyes were out of focus and the world had taken on an odd, dream-like quality. Then, all her surroundings blacked out around her and various images flashed through her mind. Mostly nonsense; even his fast paced and perceptive senses couldn't pick out many of them. But two stood out most clearly. A pair of ruby red eyes, and a building in flames.

All of this took place in the condensed time of three seconds. Alice immediately forgot what had happened and continued to listen to Bella. But Edward remembered them clearly, and, truthfully, they worried him.

He stayed a moment longer, to see if Alice had any recollection, but left when he realized she did not. On his run back to his home, he decided that he would need to keep a wary eye on Alice. This…ability…of hers could have serious repercussions if she somehow knew how to control it, and used it for the wrong reasons.

The image of the raging flames intermingled with the blood red eyes continued to tug persistently on Edward's heart, no matter how hard he tried to push it away.

000

Jasper left Bella's room in a hurry, hoping to stop the managers' plans before they got too out of hand. He feared for what Edward would do if he found out that they had been planning on replacing Bella with Carlotta. To avoid such frustration, he carefully blocked his thoughts of any news too unsavory. Jasper barged into Messieurs Banner and Clapp's office and announced, "Mademoiselle Swan has returned."

It seemed as though every one Edward despised had collected into one room. Jasper thanked all that was good for the small favor that he was here instead of his brother. The owners were in the center of the room, surrounded by Carlotta, and her ever present entourage of cronies, and the vicomte de Black stood dejectedly off to the side, only perking up when he heard Jasper say Bella's name. It was obvious what they wanted; the owners wished to be free of the phantom, Jessica came for her job, and Jacob, most conspicuous of them all, pined for Bella

It was the vicomte's relief that was _Jasper's_ only relief in this small room, filled with anger, frustration, and wounded pride. "May I see her?" Jacob asked eagerly.

"No, I thought it best she was alone; she needed rest. Here," he took Edward's letter and handed it to Monsieur Banner, "I have a note."

For some reason, this seemed to upset everyone within the room very much. Jasper looked about and saw that each of them had a, most likely threatening, letter of their own. Edward must have been busy. Monsieur Clapp looked over his business associate's shoulder and read along.

_Gentlemen,_

_I have now sent you several notes of the most amiable manner, dictating how my theater ought to be run. If you follow my instructions, I will give you one last chance._

_Isabella Swan has returned to you, and I am anxious her career should progress. In the new production of "Il Muto," you will therefore cast Carlotta as the pageboy, and put Mademoiselle Swan in the role of Countess. The role which Mademoiselle Swan plays calls for charm and appeal. The role of the pageboy is silent, which makes my casting, in a word, ideal._

_I shall watch the performance from my normal seat in Box Five, which _will_ be kept empty for me. Should these commands be ignored, a disaster beyond your imaginations will occur. I remain, gentlemen, your obedient servant,_

_Opera Ghost_

Once done with their indignant cries of out rage, Jasper had been hastily sent away. But, from the intense joy and triumph that erupted with in Jessica Stanley's body, and the spiteful vengeance that he felt from the owners, he could tell that they did not heed Edward's warning when it came to following his directions. They intended to cast La Carlotta as the lead, leaving Bella with the silent role. Then, from the distant and hidden rooms underneath the opera, Jasper felt a great anger rise.

Jasper drew in a breath to calm his nerves and whispered, though the people he wished to warn were out of hearing range, "Beware his wrath; the Angel sees, the Angel knows."

000

After a day of interrogating Bella, (though she was unaware that Bella had been carefully dancing around three details, Edward's mask; where Edward's house was; and the little fact that Edward was a supernatural being), Alice was worn out body and mind. She was at her wits end, and the only thing she could think of doing was to have a long, _long_, night's sleep. Perhaps, within the realm of dreams, she could find an answer to her problem; a way in which she could solve the confusion that plagued her.

But she only found _more_ complications.

Blanketed soundly in her lilac sheets, Alice tossed and turned. Though she was ignorant of it in her waking hours, she was in a familiar place. One of panic and the ever-growing sense that time has run out. It was a void of violent fire and hungry eyes of crimson. And, in this dream, there was the utter certainty that it would all come true.

Then, the dream stopped, and changed. It faded into the vibrant greens and muted sunlight of a dense forest. Alice's subconscious sighed in relief as she saw a dream Jasper stroll into view. He was not in his customary suit, but in a simple outfit; shirt, pants, boots, nothing else. The dream Jasper stopped suddenly, like he heard something, then crouched down in a predatory stance. His lips pulled back into what looked like a snarl.

He sprang over a bush several feet away, too far for someone to do this in real life, and landed on a buck. In movements so quick, they blurred, he brought his mouth down to the broad neck and began to…_drink_.

It only lasted six horrifying seconds, and when he stood up, his mouth was dripping…blood. Dream Jasper licked his lips in delight and called to someone out of Alice's view. As her vision moved along with Jasper, she saw that he was talking to Edward.

Dream Jasper's and dream Edward's lips moved, but Alice heard nothing. She followed them along a path until a sudden break in the foliage above sent light shining down on the two men.

And the two men sent light shining right back.

They were like the most beautiful diamonds Alice had ever seen. Their exposed skin erupted into torches of incandescence. But dream Jasper and dream Edward continued on as if nothing had happened. As if it were completely normal to have small rainbows glimmer off of you. Alice's sight slowly faded on them walking away into the fearful red again.

And then, she knew. Just like that. A chilling knowledge dropped into her mind as if it had been there all along, waiting to be unearthed. Just one word, three syllables. It had been a fairy tale to her before, but now it echoed with new levels of meaning. She ran through the twisting labyrinth of the burning building in her mind, desperately trying to outrun it.

She awoke screaming the terrible word over and over, as if it would disappear altogether if she used it up. She jumped out of bed and ran to the mirror, looking at her terrified expression. When she managed to stop her chanting, but occasionally a whimper escaped, she sat down and tried to go through the business of forgetting the dream. She never had to manually do it before, but she figured all it needed was a little push.

But it stayed, as the truth so unfairly does. She remembered everything that happened in her vision, but she didn't know when it would happen. She knew that it was up to only her to stop the future events from happening and the destruction it would cause. But how?

The word came back to her unbidden; the simple structure rolling off her tongue and landing on the floor where it seemed to grow in size and command full recognition in Alice's thoughts.

"_Vampire_."

She knew now.


	8. Il Muto

**Okay, here is where everything becomes twisted and bent. In case you haven't noticed, I'm pro-Edward, and here is where I completely turn things upside down and reverse the phantom and the vicomte. I also add Edward's and Jacob's personalities, cause, let's face it, the men from _Phantom_ are pansies. Both are constantly crying and bewailing who they are and their situations. The phantom can't turn off the water works, (though, come on, he did have it pretty rough) and has the annoying habit of speaking in third person ("You shall never see Erik's face."). Raoul threatens suicide, (kinda like Jacob, ha ha) and tears up when he thinks his girl has the hots for someone else. See?**

**Though I still like the phantom and think he should have got the girl; especially when he was played by Gerard Butler. I mean, who can deny the awesome power that is Gerard Butler? That's right. No one.**

**Okay, end rant. (I forgot what I was going to say anyway.)**

**Oh, I just realized two things. First, I didn't know that there was another fanfiction by the same name. I'm rather new and don't have much time to look around, so sorry, don't be insulted and think that I'm a name thief. I just like that song. And second, which is IMPORTANT, I need a name for Edward/Erik's opera. I don't want to use _Don Juan Triumphant_, because it's about a Spanish nobleman legendary for the chasing of women, which doesn't sound very Edward. So, some suggestions would be much appreciated.**

**Disclaimer: I tried to claim that I owned _Twilight _and _Phantom of the Opera_, but a lawyer tied me down and gave me paper cuts with a copyright agreement until I took it back. Ow.**

* * *

Il Muto

Paris, 1870

Alice had been avoiding Jasper.

This was not only the casual avoidance which occurs when one merely dislikes or is annoyed by another. This was the skillfully planned dodging that required much thought and constant vigilance. She was always prepared to jump into the nearest hallway or empty room if she saw his golden head towering down the hallway in her direction. And, if leaping out of his path was too obvious, she had a surplus of excuses and explanations which could get her out of any unfortunate confrontation.

Truthfully, they were not very good. She would plan ahead, usually while she was styling her hair, and make up brilliant stories of charitable, kind thing that she could easily be seen doing, like teaching the younger students dance steps, or assisting the staff in the costume making. Those were perfectly good, reasonable vindications. But, no. She had to look into his honey eyes and loose her train of thought, not that thought was actually possible when he smiled at you, and stutter and stammer worse than Bella did when she was the center of attention. Alice would then spurt out some random and completely impulsive excuse. Most of them came out as, "I…uh, need to…do something with Bella," or "I'm sorry Jasper, I can't talk. I'm so"_ yawn _"tired," or the ever popular, "I must go and…wash my hair. Bye," before running off out of his sight.

As bad at it as she was, Alice was thankful for the distraction her espionage created. If her mind was persistently wondering _where_ Jasper was, then she didn't have to think about _what_ he was. But, late at night, when the word crept into her mind, she couldn't come up with any good reason to fear him. Dislike him for not telling her, yes, but not shudder at the utter thought of him. She had enough sense, at least, to _know_ she should be afraid to see him, but she still felt the same quiver of butterflies within her stomach when Jasper appeared in her mind.

At least she hadn't had any more visions after the one dreadful night. She had waited, paralyzed with a deep dread, the nights after, but nothing happened. She had hoped this meant that she was crazy and had dreamed the fire, red eyes and…_vampires_ all up, but she was utterly certain that it was true. She knew most of the particulars of what was going to happen, but she didn't know _when_, or in what order.

But, she _did_ know that she could stop…whatever it was that was coming in the near future. She had thought lengthily about what she was to do and came up with the following:

1. Jasper and Edward were vampires.

2. Bella, whether she knew it or not, and herself, whether she would admit it or not, were in love with aforesaid vampires.

3. A man with red eyes was going to burn Forks down, most likely killing hundreds of people.

4. Only she knew about it, because she couldn't work up the guts to tell anyone.

5. She didn't even know what this red eyed man looked like…

Unless…

Unless she could bring back the insight.

Alice quickly focused her mind on the eyes, those crimson orbs that haunted her dreams. When the image filled her sight, she closed her thoughts to all else…and, in a trance like state a distant part of her linked to her visions, she unknowingly fell to the floor with a resounding thump. She _should_ have felt a hot burst of pain explode up her spine, but all she was aware of was the awful exhilaration that filled her once she saw her view draw back from the pair of now moving eyes and show a man's face.

Considering that she was expecting a vampire of the same impossible beauty as Jasper and his family, Alice was rather disappointed. His face, save for the blood red eyes and abnormally pale skin, was entirely forgettable. He had a thatch of dark hair falling across his forehead and a messy, wild look that frightened her. His gaze moved rapidly from place to place, never seeming to miss an inch of his surroundings and constantly on guard.

She watched as he moved methodically through a dark passage, one lined with candelabras that looked rather familiar to the unconscious Alice. Then, he suddenly stopped. The man looked down at the ground in a calculating way she didn't like one bit before breaking off a large piece of the, supposedly solid, stone wall with perfect ease and throwing it to the ground in before him. As it hit the floor, a trapdoor opened and shut more quickly than she thought possible.

The man looked amused and continued his way down the hall while the vision faded.

_He is after something,_ Alice thought as she slid off into the darkness. _And he is determined to find it._

Another vision began

000

Bella waited. And waited. And _waited_. She had to be on stage soon, for the opening night of the opera, and Alice was nowhere to be seen.

She felt and unwanted feeling of abandonment rush through her. Alice, her best friend for years, wouldn't even come to help her prepare; something she had never missed in all their years together at the opera. Bella, though she had been constantly with Edward, had noticed some of the wary and suspicious (maybe frightened?) looks that Alice would give him. Could she be snubbing her because she disapproved? No…that couldn't be it.

_Something must be wrong, _Bella thought. _Alice would never miss the opportunity of dressing me up. Even if she hated every fiber in Edward's body, she would _still _give me a makeover. _She was about to check Alice's room when a young ballerina came in and smiled at her hesitantly.

"Mademoiselle Swan," she said in a sweet, high voice, "Monsieur Clapp says we are opening the curtain in fifteen minutes."

Bella thanked her and started toward the door, giving up on waiting for Alice and pulling her hair back in a simple style. Despite her self made assurances, she was worried about Alice.

She wished she could talk to Edward, he always knew what to do in any situation. Though they had only been apart for a few hours, Bella felt an ache from his missing presence already. She had grown so accustomed to his velvet voice asking her to tell him anything, _everything_, about her, and his strong arms circled around her waist that she felt a part of her was gone now that he was absent.

On the way out the door, Bella saw a bright flash of red out of the corner of her eye and turned around to see a crimson rose bound in a matching ridden. Suddenly excited, she bounced over and brought the flower to her nose, inhaling deeply. When she looked down again, she saw a small piece of paper, with only the words, "_Good luck_" written across it in Edward's flowing script. Edward always knew how to make her feel better.

Smiling serenely and forgetting all about her trouble with Alice, Bella went to the stage for her performance, thinking only of Edward.

000

Backstage, Jasper was worried. He had just seen Bella walk in, disgustingly happy, may he add, but with no Alice.

Jasper was not a fool. He knew that Alice had been eluding him on purpose, but he didn't think she would actually skip a show for it. Not that he really even knew why she was avoiding him in the first place. He could recall nothing that could have possibly insulted her and his heart ached at the feelings of disappointment and frustration that washed through her when he tried to start a conversation. He swore he could still feel a little glimmer of the affection and love that he had once known to radiate through her, but he was sure it was only his wishful thinking mind.

When he was in his office at night, her fear kept him constantly playing a kind of a sentry, watching out for anyone who came near her door. If she was afraid of anyone, his mind brought up Firmin Clapp without a moment's hesitation, than he would make sure no one ever harmed her. But then an awful thought wormed its way into Jasper's mind. Could she possibly be afraid of him? Unless she knew, then there could be no conceivable way for him to terrify her. But she couldn't know. Not yet.

Jasper was suddenly overtaken by a feeling of self-righteous indignation. Why _should _she be frightened of him? He was going to stop beating around the bush and just ask her. If she denied him, then he would try again, because he cared more fiercely for Alice than he did for any other being, human or not, in the world. His overwhelming surge of determination filled the stage as he purposely left the room, making the actors straighten up and adjust heir costumes with pride.

The hallway was deserted when he knocked on Alice's door. "Alice," he called, "its Jasper. Now, I know you don't want to see me, but I need to talk to you. Please?" He waited for several second before knocking again. "Alice?" Now with a touch of panic, "_Alice?_" Going only on the feeling that something was wrong, Jasper pushed the door and it flew off its hinges. He looked around the room hurriedly. She was here; he could both smell it and hear her fragile heart.

He heard a gasp of breath and turned to see Alice collapsed on the floorboards, a broken expression on her face and a terrified anticipation surging through her mind. Her fingers twitched helplessly, as if she was trying to move to stop something from happening, and she let out a raspy scream. "_Bella! _NO! _Save _her!"

In a seconds time she was being rocked gently back and forth in Jasper's comforting arms. He whispered softly that it was all right, that everything would be okay and her eyes flashed open and welled with tears.

"Oh, Jasper! It was _awful_! I couldn't stop it from happening, and she just – he just – _fell!_" She burst into a tearful fit of sobbing and buried her head in his shirt. "I'm just so happy you're here, Jasper. I'm sorry." He felt the guilt tinge her horror and he pulled her closer.

"Shh," he murmured. "It was just a dream; it's all over now. You're safe." He stroked her hair tenderly and wiped the tears from her eyes.

"No," Alice whispered frantically. "No, it _wasn't _a dream. I have…" she took a deep breath and finished, "…visions. And they come true!" Her voice rose higher and she babbled rapidly, trying to get the point across to Jasper. "That's how I know that Forks is going to burn down, and that a man with red eyes is after someone, and how – how I know what you and your family are, and now Bella is going to-"

"Know?" Jasper interrupted. "_Know_? What exactly do you _know_ about me and my family?" He had at first written her hysteria off as a nightmare, but could she really be physic? She had just told him that something was different with him and his family and she couldn't have known that unless Bella had told her, which Jasper doubted.

"I didn't mean to say it so blatantly, Jasper," she amended before looking away. She continued talking, but her mind seemed far away from the conversation. Jasper could feel the stirring of emotion taking place. "But I know that you and Edward and the rest of your family are vampires. Good vampires, though, if you could phrase it so simply. And I didn't mean to hurt you by avoiding you, but I guess I needed time to figure everything out." She got up and a look of tenacity came over her previous one of helplessness. "But none of this matters right now. I need your help, and most likely Edward's. I saw – in the vision, you see – that Bella's going to-" She stopped and more tears streaked down her cheeks.

Jasper clasped her hand and looked her in the eyes. "You can tell me, Alice. I believe you." And, he found he did. After all, he was a mythical creature who could control people's emotions. "I'll help however I can."

Alice looked into his eyes and managed to rasp out, "Bella's going to…_die._"

000

Tyler Crowley looked down from his seat in the ramp ways above the stage appreciatively. From his oh-so-convenient position he could look down, quite clearly he was proud to say, into one of the ballerina's dresses. He was sure that the Swan girl would have been a sight to see as well, but her unfortunate casting had her dressed as a man pretending to be a woman, and that meant that she had a high cut dress.

He didn't pretend to understand what the play was about, but when a demanding voice boomed, "DID I NOT INSTRUCT THAT BOX FIVE WAS TO BE KEPT EMPTY?" from the small ramp encircling the ceiling, he was sure it wasn't part of the opera. Tyler glanced over to the box and noticed the vicomte de Black stare alarmingly at the ceiling and shudder in fear, no doubt wishing for another seat.

Looking up and straining his eyes, Tyler could see a man standing imperiously and regarding the opera goers below him. Though his face was partially covered in a white mask, Tyler could see this spectral man's amusement at the fear on everyone's face.

Edward heard Bella say, "It's the phantom!" in the breathy and helpless voice they had agreed on. Right now, there was no need to arouse any suspicion of their rather delicate situation, so she pretended to be just as scared of him as everyone else. Though she did manage throw him an exaggerated wink when she was sure that everyone was looking up at Edward and not at her. He suppressed a smile.

Jessica, or La Carlotta, outraged that that _Swan _girl had taken the line she was about to say, turned around and barked at Bella, "Your part is silent, you little toad!" She regretted her impulsive decision when she A) forgot her accent, and B) forgot the audience thought she was a sweet and humble Spanish opera star. She tried to mend her mistake by smiling hugely and rolling her "R"s to an excruciating extent. "All rrrright, all rrright. It's good. Let's continue the operrra! Maestrrro!"

Edward, knowing she couldn't hear him but saying it anyway, corrected, "Perhaps it is _you_ who is the toad, Madame." He watched with a smug satisfaction as she, predictably, leaned off stage to get her bottle of throat spray. She returned to the stage and started back to the opera, her mind buzzing with pride at having diverted what could have been an awful situation. Well, it was until she tried a particularly high note, then she let out a very surprising croak. Rather like a toad, one would imagine.

As she gasped and gagged and pointed extravagantly to her throat, Edward chuckled darkly. What a difficult find that spray had been. But now, seeing the result, which would probably wear off in a couple of hours, he thought it was all worth it.

The curtain dropped suddenly, trapping one of the male tenors on stage, and Messieurs Clapp and Banner climbed onto stage. "We," began Banner in a shaky voice that cracked, "are sorry for the…inconvenience. Now we would like to show you the ballet from…act three of tonight's opera while we prepare Isabella Swan for the role of countess. It will only be a moment." He threw a shaky glance toward the ceiling where Edward was and scurried away.

The curtain opened again to a writhing havoc of ballerinas and prop men still rearranging the set. The tenor who had been trapped on the stage gave a bow to the audience, while the maestro mouthed "You're fired!" to him, and hurriedly backed away into one of the ballerinas in the middle of her pirouette. The audience laughed appreciatively at the confusion and madness.

Edward had been listening to the managers' angry thoughts with delight when someone else's interrupted him. And that someone was Jasper.

_Edward!_ he thought urgently. _Listen to Alice. Don't bother worrying how she knows, but you _must_ listen to her!_

_Okay, _Alice's thought broke through, _I'm going to show you something, and you _have _to believe it. You must act quickly and with no hesitation. I have no doubt that you love Bella, and if you want to save her, pay attention. _

_She knows how to control her visions now, _was all Edward's confused mind could think before her thoughts stopped and a picture appeared in her mind. It was of Tyler Crowley, the nosey stagehand. The vision started moving and Edward watched with grim amazement as Tyler peered over the side of the rigging he was on above the stage. Crowley seemed to be looking at something that shocked him, because he lost hold of the railing and fell over the side, plummeting toward the stage. Edward was horrified to see that the opera had once again resumed, and the new star, his sweet Bella, was directly where Crowley was landing. Bella was killed immediately when she hit the floor and broke her neck, but _him_, that _bastard _would only break a leg.

Edward's eyes darkened to a murderous black as he sprinted out the door and toward the stage, hoping he wasn't too late.

000

Tyler saw something. It was only a flash, but he could have been sure it looked like the…_opera ghost_. It had stopped by the side of the stage, looking around with wild eyes until they landed on him. Then, he was gone. The ghost was only a figment of Tyler's overwrought and under slept mind. Or, at least that's what he thought until the ramp he was on shook suddenly. He clumsily turned around and his mind froze in fear.

The man looked like a fallen angel as he stalked towards him. He possessed a grace Crowley had never seen before; so smooth seamless it was like he was gliding. All the stories Tyler had told about the phantom were false; this man, though he could not see the right side of his face, was in possession of all his facial features. His too-handsome expression was contorted into a look of pure and utter disgusted rage. He radiated power and control and, as of this moment, profound ferocity. Tyler felt his knees weaken in fear.

"_Tyler Crowley!_" the apparition spat. "You vile man, who looks through keyholes into ladies' dressing rooms and steals the opera's liquor, are about to pay for what your carelessness would cause." Tyler fell to his knees and started to speak, he wasn't sure what he was going to say, most likely a babbling sorry, but the phantom cut him off. "There is no use apologizing," he sneered. "My patience with your meddling into my affairs has worn thin, and my mercy has vanished at the sight of what was to happen."

The opera ghost was suddenly in front of him, his pale hands clutching Tyler's shirt like claws and lifting him a good foot off the floor. The phantom threw him to the ground and grabbed a bundle of rope that was on the floor. "You," he growled as he tied Tyler to the railing, "will stay here, quietly, and by the end of the performance I will come back to untie you. You will then leave this opera and _never_ come back. If I ever see your face after this night, the last thing you will see is _my_ face. Understood?" He didn't wait for a reply and was gone.

Tyler was left feeling like cursing and crying all at the same time. He was so bewildered by what had just happened, and the threats that were made, that he didn't realize how the rope cut into his skin. All Tyler could think was, _I must get away from here, I must get away from here, I must get out- _over and over. An overwhelming certainty filled him that if the phantom were to come back, Tyler would most assuredly die.

All stagehands carried a knife, and Tyler took his out. He managed to cut the rope binding his hands and legs, also pricking his wrists and ankles several painful times due to his shaking hands. All he had to do was slash the rope holding him to the railing and he would be free. And he would have been to, if he had not neglected the one vital detail between him and his chance to get the hell out of Forks:

The rope around his shoulders and chest.

When Tyler raised himself to his quivering knees and half-turned to get the rope tied securely around the railing post, he lost his balance. And fell. He caught himself on one of the railing posts, dangling out of sight above the unknowing cast of Forks, but his terror and surprise made his palms sweat.

Tyler's grip on the railing loosened…and the rope around his shoulders slide higher.

000

Once he had left Crowley, Edward carefully listened to Alice's mind. She seemed to be working completely on a spontaneous and unknown part of her that knew how to operate her strange, but oh so useful talent. Though she was quite sure that everything was clear she continued to focus on this night and this opera, just in case. Edward shared her caution and patiently waited for any change in events.

Alice _had _been seeing a great performance and Bella beaming bashfully as the audience rose to their feet and clapped thunderously, but then, something _changed_. Bella's smiling face now turned to a dull blank stare that saw, and would only see, nothing. Her body lay crumpled on the stage floorboards under a pile of heavy cans and tools. Alice could see Edward appear beside Bella, savagely pushing away anyone who was in his way, and kneel beside her, cradling her in his arms.

Edward, who had been paying attention the whole time, didn't even bother to stay and listen to the urgent words Alice threw after him. His mind was bursting with the crazed what-ifs of what would happen if his Bella actually _did_ die. There would be no other option than to follow suit and join her in the after life.

On the rigging, Edward saw that the dimwitted stagehand had not listened and had tried to escape. Once Tyler saw the opera ghost, he doubled his struggle to get away. He didn't see that Edward was here to try and help him, but that he was going to finish him off. Tyler would much rather take his chances with gravity than at this monster's hands. His loose grip on the railing slipped in his wet hands and the rope that had been creeping up his shoulders tightened at Crowley's neck with a sickening _snap_. Edward threw himself on the railing and reached over to catch Tyler's hand, but it was too late. His neck had broken, and Tyler Crowley was left swinging back and forth eerily above the stage.

In the silence of the surprised theater, the cracking of the wooden rigging could be heard like thunder. Edward noticed the clanking of heavy metal tools sliding down the now slanted ramp and towards the stage. Seeing what this had meant in the vision, he launched himself off the rigging and pushed the railing with his feet to build up momentum. He landed where the confused and dizzy Bella had stopped to look up at the late Monsieur Crowley, and grabbed her by the waist, throwing both of them to the ground several feet away.

The could-be deadly objects fell harmlessly on the hard as nails wooden stage planking, only causing a scratch or two.

No one seemed to want to react at first. Well, Jessica tried to, but all that came out was a frustrated croak. A woman in the front row took her place in readily pointing out the obvious and yelled, "He's _DEAD_!" After that, the building was in uproar. The audience got to their feet and ignored the manager's reassurance that it was all right, that the dead man swinging over their heads was only a prop. In the craziness, only one man seemed to remember that Bella had been on stage one minute, then rocketed off the next by a man-shaped thing in black the next. His name was Jacob.

000

Edward, after safely relocating him and Bella to a private area off the side of the stage, looked over Bella anxiously. He still wasn't awake to the fact that she was here, in his arms, apposed to lying broken center stage. He ignored her protests and questions and gathered her in his arms tightly, wanting to never let her go.

"Edward?" Bella asked hesitantly, not sure what the reason for his odd behavior was. Or, for that manner, why he had flown across the stage and pulled her over here. "Edward, what happened?"

"I almost lost you," he whispered in her hair. "Thank all that is good that Alice had the vision, or you'd be gone." He saw her confusion and continued. "Alice can apparently see the future. When she saw that the stagehand, Tyler Crowley was going to fall on you, and…_kill_ you, she warned me. I tied the man up and hoped that it would divert what was going to happen, but Crowley tried to unbind himself. He fell and the rope...well, you can see what happened. I tried to save him," he added in a slightly helpless voice. "I really did, but he was too fast. Then the tools were about to fall on you so, I, uh, pushed you out of the way. I'm sorry if I hurt you." He still had a guilty look on his face when he finished, Tyler's horrified face, and thoughts, haunted his mind.

Bella kissed Edward's cheek and turned his head to look at her. "You did everything you could. It's not your fault that he died. Besides, you saved me, the woman who loves you with all her heart. Do not despair." She boldly reached up and pressed her lips to his. "I can never thank you enough. Not only do _you _love _me_, but you've saved my life. Knowing you is the best thing that ever happened to me."

Edward smiled and kissed her hand. "I think I could say the same thing, Bella. Without you I'm not sure what I'd do." He cocked his head to the side, as if listening to something, and sighed. "I have to speak with Jasper right now, but I will only be gone for a minute or two. Please don't leave; I'm afraid you will get into more trouble than usual." He gave her hand a final squeeze, and was gone.

Bella dropped into a nearby chair. Alice could see the future (though she really wasn't surprised, Alice had been too good at guessing), Edward could read minds, and Jasper could control feelings. What about her? She felt insignificant in such company, like she was unworthy to even know them. She wished she could provide Edward something more than her love, but she couldn't think of anything. Still, she felt blessed to have her Angel of Music beside her, for even a short amount of time. She did not assume he would make her a vampire, because he had once said he had been human and that he had been _changed_, so they would be together forever, no matter how much she wished it would happen. Bella just wanted to treasure the time she had with him while she could.

While she had been thinking, the vicomte de Black had been slowly stepped up behind her, and when he placed a hand on her shoulder, she jumped a mile high.

"Jacob!" she gasped. "Don't do that! You scared me silly. What do you want anyway?" she said more sharply than she had intended. Seeing his crestfallen face, she quickly amended, "I'm just a bit agitated after…what happened."

Jacob nodded approvingly. It was perfectly natural for a delicate female to be beside herself after such a distressing incident. He felt his heart swell as his childhood affection seemed to grow into something more real. Perhaps even love. Jacob now knew what all those poets and writers had been going on about when they compared a woman to an angel. "Bella," he said in the soft tones of ardor that seemed specifically reserved for those infatuated with another. "Can I speak to you privately?"

"Silly me," replied Bella jokingly, completely missing his tone. "And here I thought we were already speaking privately. Is this not good enough?" She was thinking of not leaving Edward, and Jacob was thinking of avoiding that mysterious shadow that had dragged Bella here. Some inner instinct told him that it was the man who owned the voice he had heard coming from Bella's room, and Jacob planned on eluding it.

"No, it's just…such a lovely night out. Why don't we enjoy it on the roof?" He held out his arm for her, and, even though it was a rather chilly spring night, she accepted. Jacob was so elated, he didn't notice how Bella continuously looked around. Somewhat hopefully, the perceptive observer might have discerned.

They climbed an endless amount of stairs in silence, neither of them noticing the shadow that followed them; stopping when they stopped, starting when they began again, and turning as they did, a perfect shadow in every sense of the word. And what drove this mysterious black-clad pursuer? Nothing but the prying and untrusting heart of a jealous man, well used to disappointment and rejection.

Once on the roof of Forks, Jacob did not see a blur of darkness that ran behind him and rested on the shoulder of the large stone statue of Apollo, for who would look behind when there is such beauty right in front of you? Bella thought she saw something, a glimmer of recognition even went off in her head, but dismissed it.

Jacob stopped walking and clasped Bella's hands in his tenderly. "I don't think I've had the chance to tell you this, Bella, but I am very glad that we have met once again. When we were children, and you left, I was heart-broken. I suppose now is my second chance."

"At what, Jacob?" Bella asked distractedly. She was _sure_ she had heard something from the other side of the roof. Her puzzled thoughts could have sworn she had heard a…well, a _growl_. But that was just silly, wasn't it?

Poor, love-sick, Jacob ran his hand along the side of her face. "At having _you_. I have always been in love with you Bella, ever since we were children, all those years ago."

For the first time that night, Bella looked him in the eye. "Me? Jacob, you were always the _worst_ prankster! Now, let's go inside, it has become dreadfully cold and I do not wish to catch something." She tried to tug him closer to the door, but he held his ground.

"No, Bella," he cried. Her response seemed to break the bubble of the blissful pictures of their future Jacob had been imagining. Even though it was entirely inappropriate, he had even thought of proposing. He felt absurd for concocting such things, but continued on anyway, his hopeful romanticism egging him on. "I am being entirely serious! And I thought that you felt the same. You seemed so happy to see me the other night and-"

"Jacob, please!" Bella interrupted. "Let's not continue this any longer. I really do think you have caught cold to speak so oddly! Let's go." Giving up on him, and unable to see the way his sweet face fell, she started toward the door, but stopped when she heard Jacob's angry response.

"It's _him_ isn't it?" he spat venomously. "The man I heard behind your door that night I went to get your coat. The one I saw push you out of the way on stage. Isn't it?" Then, when he saw that Bella wasn't going to respond, he said more forcefully, "_Isn't it?_" He felt angry. He felt rejected. He felt like he had just had his heart ripped out of his chest and thrown down on the floor by this hideous woman. And yet, he still felt as though if he just held her in his arms he would be happy for all of eternity; like he would be complete with just one kiss. Jacob's mind went back and forth between hating her and loving her, until his foolish heart settled with a medium that left him indecisive and at a point of breaking.

Bella didn't know what to do. She didn't want to intentionally hurt him, but she knew that even the slightest encouragement would by cruel and misleading. She forced her voice to be cold and said, "Jacob, you know not of who you speak. Goodbye." She tried to leave, but Jacob caught her wrist in a grip as strong as iron. The shadow was ready to come out of hiding and intervene, but the next question that was already springing from the vicomte's mouth interested him. He crouched back down and waited.

"Oh, I know _exactly_ of who I speak. I have heard the rumors of this opera house; of how a beast so awful, his own mother wouldn't have him, lives in the sewers. And how, when you went missing, the _opera ghost_, as he is so colorfully called, sent up notes concerning your future career. I had hoped you would be smart enough, though, to avoid such madness. How can you love such a monster, Bella, when only just within the past hour, he terrified a whole theater and killed a man?"

"He did not kill him!" Bella yelled as she yanked free of his grip. "He saved _me_, and couldn't save Monsieur Crowley as well! Edward is the best of men and I have never seen him as the monster you insist he is! He has done nothing wrong, and the only thing against him is the wrongful words by thoughtless people like you!" Her face suddenly turned tender, and her voice was soft, "I love him, more than I ever thought I could possibly love anyone in the world. If you make me choose between you and him, there is no choice, because without Edward…I just couldn't be." She stopped and looked up into Jacob's anguished eyes. She was about to continue, to say something that could take away that misery, but he was gone, running out the door.

Jacob leaped down the stairs as quickly as he could, thinking that if he went fast enough, he could outrun his screaming heart. At the bottom of the landing, he leaned gasping against the wall. He felt childish tears run down his cheeks and batted them away angrily. _This _wasn't the end of it.

He would win Bella's love somehow.

000

Now the shadow chose to leave the darkness behind Apollo. He saw Bella, crumpled on her knees and sobbing into her open palms, and felt anger rise within him. Who was this _boy_ to think he could make such a woman cry?

Bella felt the heavy fabric of Edward's cape being wrapped around her shoulders before she saw him. She threw her arms around his neck and cried in disjointed broken words, "I'm so-so awful to – make him feel bad. He m-may have spoken ill of you-ou, but it is _I_ who is the m-monster. I'm no g-good for you." But she only tightened her grip on his stone frame, never wanting to let go.

"Bella," Edward whispered in her ear, gently brushing her hair from her neck. "You once told me that you would not tolerate hearing me berate myself, and I'm now returning the favor. It's insulting _me_ personally when I hear my love being affronted, so I demand this insanity about 'not being good enough' to end."

Bella let out a shaky laugh and said, "I love you, Edward. No matter what."

Edward nodded and pulled her up to her feet. "Now, I'm afraid I have to be the bearer of bad news. It has been a long while since Jasper and I have hunted, so we must make a trip out of Paris for several days. I also have…something else to finish."

Bella seemed completely unfazed by Edward's mention of hunting. She had been seeing his eyes grow darker for a while now and she had no scruples with his more…_raw_ food source. "Is that something else your opera, Edward?" she guessed.

He looked momentarily surprised, but tried to hide it. She really was too perceptive for her own good. "Yes," he said solemnly. "I am almost done. It only needs a few adjustments and it will be perfect." He seemed to be deep in thought, but brightened suddenly. "I have something for you, though. A present." Before Bella could protest, Edward was gone for several moments before returning with a small object wrapped in a clothe. He handed it to Bella and waited a bit nervously, not sure if she would like it or not.

Bella removed the fabric gently, fearing that she would drop the gift. When it was revealed she gasped. It was _beautiful_.

Edward had made her a delicately carved music box. On the top were life-like figurines of a dainty and snow-white lamb resting beside a large and powerful looking lion. Though they were animals, Bella felt as though they were looking affectionately into each other's eyes. She twisted the intricate knob on the side of the box and a familiar melody rose harmoniously from within. It was her lullaby.

Edward touched each figurine momentarily and explained, "The lion who fell in love with the lamb. It seemed fitting."

She had tears in her eyes just as she did when he first played the song for her on his organ. "Edward," she choked out, "I love it. Thank you." She hugged him close, but pulled back when she saw the box opened. Wanting desperately to see what was inside, she moved to lift the latch, but Edward stopped her.

"No, Bella. I'm overjoyed that you like it, but I don't want you to open it until I'm gone. I want you to…take your time with your decision." His Grecian face clouded over with such doubt and self-consciousness that Bella quickly obeyed. Edward checked his watch and grimaced. "Jasper's getting impatient, I have to go." He bent down and kissed Bella for the longest time he ever had, making her knees weaken and heart stutter, before saying, "I love you, Bella. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Bella could only breathe out a weak "Goodbye" before he was gone, leaving Bella, swaddled in his cape and clutching her music box to her chest, on the roof by herself. She was in a daze, unhappily contemplating the long and tedious days of waiting ahead of her before she remembered that there was something in the box. She fumbled open the latch pulled out a letter with Edward's refined script saying,

_Think about it…_

Bella wrinkled her forehead in confusion. Think about what? She looked back down into the box and found that she had overlooked something. A rather important something.

It was a ring. An elegant gold band which held a cluster of exquisite diamonds that sparkled and shimmered in the roof's candle light. It was an _engagement _ring.


	9. Red Death

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I sincerely suggest that you read _The Masque of Red Death_ by Edgar Allan Poe, who is basically one of the best writers to ever walk the face of the earth. Though you'd understand the chapter without, I put up a link to the story on my profile anyway. I guess I'm just trying to spread the gospel.

**Tell me what you think.**

**Disclaimer: The list just keeps getting longer..._ takes a deep breath_... I do not own _Twilight_, _The Phantom of the Opera_, or any story written by Poe. _Gasps for more air._**

* * *

"There was much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the _bizarre_, and something of the terrible…" _The Masque of Red Death_, Edgar Allan Poe

Red Death

Paris, 1870

It had been two weeks since the disastrous _Il Muto_ fiasco. Two long weeks where the press was in frenzy, Carlotta was threatening to quit (again), and Tyler Crowley's death caused three stage hands to retire early, and four to ask _never_ to go into the lower chambers of the opera. But, among chaos of the opera's now building reputation for tragedy, the phantom _never _showed.

Messieurs Clapp and Banner had anxiously expected much more lucrative demands and appearances from the opera ghost. They had even prepared a groveling apology and pooled together their bank accounts to make an offer of forgiveness. _If_, their wild minds thought, _he could kill a man on his first night of dominance, what would he do next?_ They had went to ask Monsieur Hale, the only person they knew to be in contact with the apparition, but he had only responded by telling them he would be on vacation and will return in a week or so.

The more time that went by, the more arrogant the managers became. They had reached a point of self delusion that told them _they_ were the reason the phantom left. That _he_ was afraid of _them_. Everywhere they went, they could be heard loudly regaling their supposed standoff with the mysterious resident of their opera house. Each time it was told, the circumstances grew more and more unfeasible. Within a day's time, they went from simply denying the phantom to physically throwing him out of Forks when he threatened the honor of one of the young dancers.

Their euphoria at no longer being disturbed by the ghost made them want to celebrate. And celebrate they would.

The Messieurs had prepared one of the most lavish and expensive costume balls that Paris had ever seen. For days, the entrance of the opera, a very large from room consisting of two levels that were both to be used as dance floors and a magnificent marble staircase connecting them, was being scrubbed to a gleaming shine in preparation.

A baker's dozen of florists had been hired to make the most fanciful and far-fetched flower arrangements ever seen. The finest seamstresses had been employed to design whimsical creations inspired by animals and bring justice to a mad man's capricious fantasies of dress. Clapp had handpicked the best musicians in their orchestra to perform all night long on a raised platform in the middle of the lower floor, and chosen the most skilled dancers to join the party and make sure that there was never a lag in the waltzing and any poor man or woman without a dance partner would be taken care of.

All in all, it was the most anticipated and talked about occasion. Only the Parisian elite were invited, with not only the opera's newest and most talented singing sensation, Isabella Swan, on the guest list but the vicomte de Black had also received one of the gilded invitations.

It was sure to prove an interesting night.

000

Bella looked at herself in the mirror with a bitterness she had never thought she was capable of. She was dressed in the most beautiful dress she had ever seen, it was a delicate snowy white trimmed with black lace that made her skin look more rosy than pale and accentuated her slim waist, and she had her hair curled and pulled back from her face with diamond clips Alice had managed to "borrow" from the costume crew. She even had a delicate and exquisite diamond engagement ring hanging from a golden chain around her neck, but she wasn't happy.

Edward had been gone for the two most excruciatingly slow weeks of her life. Each day she would wake up with a certainty that he would be back today, that she could run into his arms and kiss him with all her might in only an hour or two, but she would be steadily more and more heartbroken as the day progressed and he didn't appear.

Alice seemed to share her feelings of loneliness and despair when she sat down to breakfast each morning with a forlorn shake of the head to Bella's unasked question of _Will they come back today?_ Alice's useful talent was easy to become accustomed to, but it had a knack of spoiling your hope for the day.

Now they both had to endure an evening of misery at the mandatory ball; Bella as a guest of honor, Alice as a professional dancer. They were sure they would be counting down the seconds until they could finally be excused and retire to their rooms for more sulking.

There was a brief knock on the door before Alice came into the room with a spring in her step Bella had not seen for ages. Alice was in a jester's outfit that she absolutely adored. The dress was split down the middle with red on one side and black on the other, while she wore black tights. It even had bells, to her deep joy, attached to the ends of the small hat she wore jauntily at an angle in her wildly spiked hair and at the end of her elfin shoes with the curling toe. She had a red domino on and handed Bella a black lace domino of her own.

Bella appraised her friend suspiciously after she put on her mask. "Why are you so suddenly happy?" Alice only smiled and hummed the melody of Bella's lullaby, which she had been constantly playing in order to go to sleep without tossing and turning. Bella was too deep in the throes of depression to care and blamed the good mood on the new outfit.

As usual, Bella's thoughts went back to Edward just as readily as they ever did. She imagined his tousled hair falling in front of his topaz eyes, which would be lighter now after his hunt, and she unknowingly played with the ring that was around her neck. She thought of what it'd be like, living with Edward forever, and her heart sped up. Bella pushed back the lightheaded feelings though, because before she gave him an answer, she had a question of her own.

Alice watched Bella with a small smile. She knew it was wrong after distrusting Edward such a short time ago, but her opinion of him had changed. This new skill had opened up a whole new door to Alice. Though it had an unfortunate habit of giving several conclusions to one event, it showed her how people would react as well. And in each and every vision she saw of Edward, he was doing whatever he could to make life as good for Bella as he possibly could. The thorough consideration that seemed to wind its way through his mind when Bella was concerned touched Alice's heart. She had always hoped Bella would find someone amazing, but Edward surpassed all her hopes.

When she saw Bella come down from the roof of the opera with an insane grin she couldn't seem to get rid of, Alice noticed the wooden box clutched in Bella's arms, and the cape that was obviously Edward's around her shoulders. Alice had only thought they had had a particularly nice goodbye, but each day she noticed a small lump in Bella's high-necked dress from some large pendant on the necklace that Bella kept out of sight. Now that the dress Alice may have picked out for this purpose had a low neck line, she saw that it was a ring on the end of the chain, a beautiful ring. Having no doubt at what it was and what it meant, Alice chose not to say anything. She guessed that Bella wanted to tell Edward her answer before she told Alice, and she could accept that. After all, she would have done the same thing.

Alice adjusted her mask, checked her makeup, and beckoned to Bella. "Come," she said with enthusiasm Bella didn't understand. "The ball has already begun, and we must hurry if we wish to be casually late." Bella nodded sadly and slipped on the black ballet shoes Alice had let her wear because the dress covered them. Bella thought that this would be one of the worst evenings of her life. Forced dancing and dining with people she didn't care to see at all.

But Alice knew better. She had had a vision.

000

Everyone at the opulent masquerade noticed the Red Death skulking about.

They had at first thought that this stranger was a true wit, picking a popular and well-known character of a famous story. Many men in the room looked upon the graceful figure with stabs of envy; they wished they had come up with such a brilliant idea, and that they were the ones in the crimson red fitted trousers, shirt and cape, all with gold lined edges. The men looked down at the costumes they had once thought so smart and dapper, but, in comparison, were only lackluster.

The guests wanted to know this man, who was obviously well-read, creative, and, from the bit of him they could see behind the skull-like mask that covered the top half of his face, handsome. In a flurry the guests asked each other if they knew the man, so they could be properly introduced of course, but no one did. He was a complete mystery.

Michael Newton, at the urging of the woman he was escorting, La Carlotta, tried to introduce himself, but when he went to tap the young man on his shoulder, he whipped around faster that Michael would have believed, twisted Mike's wrist, and whispered with grim humor, "Do not touch me! I am Red Death stalking about!" Monsieur Newton saw fire in the man's eyes and felt power and strength radiate from his grasp. Michael gave a cry and ran away from the jeering crowd of onlookers in terror.

While the men envied the stranger, the women were determined to meet him. They leaned against the railings in poses that were borderline scandalous. They tried to offer him a drink, but he would disappear to another part of the immense hall before they had a chance. They would admire his broad shoulders, which were only accentuated with the cape, and how his scarlet outfit made his skin seem to glow in an unearthly pallor. But when they got closer to him, they saw something that was not right in his overwhelming perfection. Something that made them feel a small prick of fear in the instinctive part of their minds. He was beautiful, but, as time carried on, they became surer that this was a _dangerous_ beauty that they ought not to take part in.

So the eyes trained themselves to look away when the Red Death glided their way. They averted their gaze and kept a wide berth in between him and themselves. No one mentioned him anymore. And the Red Death smiled in his amusement.

When most people were determined to not even _think_ about this offensive stranger, one pair of eyes followed him, sure that this man reminded him of someone he knew. These eyes belonged to a perceptive person, and he saw the way the Red Death moved, how silent he was in his grace, and it triggered alarms of recognition in the back of his mind.

When the doors opened and let in the new star, Mademoiselle Swan, the owner of these perceptive eyes saw with a pang how she and the Red Death locked gazes. The man in scarlet bounded up the stairs to the higher level and gave a poised bow before the beautiful lady, who grinned widely and blushed prettily. No one but the man with the perceptive eyes saw how the Red Death took the opera singer by the hand and pulled her into a dark corner, out of sight from everyone.

No one really noticed, but then again, Jacob Black was a _very_ perceptive person.

000

In the dark corner he had pulled them into, Edward embraced Bella with a sigh of relief. "I have missed you, Bella. So much," he murmured into her ear. He looked over Bella like a man dying of thirst would look at a tall glass of water. "You're even more beautiful than I remember." He brought his lips to Bella's blushing cheek and trialed kisses down her neck, smiling as he noted her erratic heartbeat. When his sharp eyes picked out a glimmer and sparkle in the darkness, he looked down to the necklace that rested on Bella's collarbone and saw… the engagement ring.

Several emotions were suddenly running wildly through his mind and heart; joy, anxiety, doubt, a fierce hope and unending love, just to name a few. He looked up into Bella's eyes with a questioning face. She understood exactly what he was silently asking and clasped his hand in her own.

"Before I answer your proposal Edward, I have a question and a request." She took a deep breath and stared into his eyes, which now seemed to have stifled some of the hope she found so endearing in case she denied him. He couldn't stand to be hurt again, especially by his Bella.

He gave a cautious nod, and Bella continued. "First, my question, is that…if we are going to be married, will you make me…the same as you?" She seemed unsure as she searched for the right words. "I don't think I could stand it if you were to continue looking as you are for all eternity while I grow older and older each day."

Edward took a deep breath. He had at least expected this much, and thought about it lengthily during his hunting trip. He had weighed his options and come up with several conclusions. If he left Bella human, he would eventually lose her. Then his romantically dependant heart would break and he would be unable to live without his love. Seeing that this option would inevitably end in suicide, Edward dismissed it. He did not come this far, risk so many things, to cut their time short. But what if he changed her and she hated it? He would feel like even more like a monster if she detested what she became. Although, if she actually _wanted_ to become a vampire…

_If she wanted to become a vampire to be with me,_ Edward thought, _I would be infinitely happy. _His mind ran ahead of him and thought of all the places they'd go and all the things they'd see. They would have an eternity to be with each other. His heart grew at the thought of them buying a home near Carlisle and Esme, laying out in the sun of another country, and just holding each other close.

Driven by this hopeful future, Edward answered, "If you want to Bella, then I will change you. But I must warn you, it is an excruciatingly painful thing to go through. It is two to three days of feeling as though you are being burned alive. Are you _sure_?"

Bella looked completely unruffled by what he just said. "Any amount of pain is worth being with you for eternity," she spoke softly. Her voice then turned rather wary, "Now for the request. Edward, I love you with all my heart and want to marry you as soon as possible, but…I can't if I know that you are hiding something from me. I want us to be open and you need to tell me about your past, before the opera house. I want to be able to look into of the face of my husband." She grasped his hands in hers and kissed them gently. "I don't want anymore hiding Edward."

Hating to see her like this, Edward quickly made up his mind. "Then hide we won't." He took off her necklace and held it so the ring slipped off into his palm. With a gentleness that made Bella's heart melt, he held her left hand and slid the ring on her fourth finger. "We can leave Forks and start a new life together. I can finally let go of my past failings now that I have you in my future. I'll tell you everything that happened to me before we leave and I'll burn my masks…but first I must do something. We would only have to stay a week or two longer."

"Is it your opera?" Bella asked excitedly. "You finished it? Of course we'll stay. But do you really mean everything you said?" Her mind was in such a frantic mess after Edward's declaration, and she was _certain_ she must be dreaming. She had to touch him in some way, by running her hand through his hair or cupping the side of his face in her hand, to make sure he was actually here.

As a response, Edward leaned down and kissed her. It was so unbearably sweet that she thought she was in heaven. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body closer to his, trying to prolong the pleasure. But he didn't stop; he just picked her up and twirled them around until they had to break the kiss because they were joyfully laughing too much.

Edward set Bella down on her feet and excitedly exclaimed, "We must celebrate!" They clasped hands and left the shelter of their secluded spot. To Bella, everything seemed bigger, brighter, and happier. She couldn't stop smiling and the young couple was unable to quit peaking over at the other every few seconds, and then erupting into giggles and chuckles. Their love was practically tangible, especially to a perceptive observer.

Due to Edward's insistence, they were in the middle of the upper floor, within plain sight of every person in the large hall, when Edward started spinning her around in graceful circles. Bella had only learned the waltz for an opera several years ago, and was rather rusty, but Edward's flawless and confidant leading made it all seem effortless.

While she was looking around and admiring the decorations, Bella noticed something. "Edward," she said in an embarrassed and small voice, "every one is _looking_ at us." She stated this as if it were the most absurd thing that could happen.

"My dear Bella, that is only because I am dancing with the most beautiful woman in Paris. When one becomes entangled in such a situation, it is expected for onlookers to be amazed." He stopped speaking and his eyes swept over her form. "Did I mention that I would have to thank Alice for putting you into that dress?" he added with a crooked grin that made Bella's heart sputter.

"Since we're on the topic of costumes, I must say how much I like yours. I see you remembered my fondness for Poe." They had been speaking of authors they enjoyed, which, due to the vast reading capabilities of the two, were difficult to retain to a short list, and Bella had mentioned that some of her favorite stories were written by the American author, Edgar Allen Poe. She was touched that Edward would even be able to recall such small details.

"Yes," Edward replied with a sly smile, "and it was either this or the Ourang-Outang from _The Murders in the Rue Morgue_, but I doubt that you would have appreciated my dressing up as an ape."

"Oh, but it would have suited you so," Bella laughed and he joined in. _This,_ Bella thought as she rested her head on Edward's shoulder, not caring if it was closer than what was thought to be proper_, is perfection. _If she had Alice's little innate ability, though, she would have had a whole new perspective on the current, and quickly approaching, circumstances.

000

Jasper was standing next to the musicians, promptly ignoring the ladies that looked at him, and looking through the crowd. He had just seen his brother and Bella come into the middle of the dance floor busting with an improbable amount of happiness and love. Jasper's keen eyes caught the glimmer of a large engagement on Bella's hand and he smiled. So _that _had been the reason for the gallons of the indecisiveness that had been rolling off Edward in waves.

Leaving them to their privacy, Jasper turned his attention back to the task at hand. He had been trying to find Alice, but with the confusion of emotions and smells, it was proving more difficult than he had thought. Among the mystery and gaiety of the masked ball that surrounded him on all sides, it seemed impossible to pick anyone out. The only ones that really stood out were Jasper himself and his brother; Edward for his over the top and unusual magnificence and Jasper for his…well, lack of it.

While the other guests tried their best for the dominance of dress, Jasper had only suited up in his old military uniform. He was originally from Texas, and had fought as an officer in the Mexican war and, though the navy blue fabric was a little worn and the brass buttons were a tad dull, he felt nostalgic pride run through his southern veins.

There was a light tap on his shoulder and he turned around, the indifferent expression he had donned in order to escape any party guest brightened to a smile when he saw a pixie-like girl in a jester costume.

"Excuse me sir, but would you care to dance?" she asked with an eyebrow rising over her domino mask. "You see," she went on, not stopping for a reply, "I am in employment by the opera to dance with any gentlemen who do not already have a partner, and you sir, do not have a partner." The girl grinned mischievously.

"Actually," Jasper said, playing along, "I do have a partner. I seem to have misplaced her, though. Could you, by any chance, tell me if you have seen her? She is about this tall," he held his hand at the same height as the young lady in front of him, "has oddly short hair," he gently pulled a strand of her hair, "and has the most beautiful violet eyes you have ever seen; rather like yours if I do say so myself. So, can you point me in the direction of the angelic girl I am looking for?" During this last sentence, Jasper subtly walked backward to the dance floor, pulling the girl along with him, and slowly led her in the elegantly revolving waltz.

"Why sir!" she exclaimed in over exaggerated joy. "I _do _know where she is!"

"Oh, do tell."

"She happens to be right here, in your arms," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes," Jasper said in a soft voice, all of his previous joking humor gone as he pulled her closer, "and I've never been happier. Hello, Alice. Seeing you again makes me realize how much I've missed you the past two weeks."

Alice resisted the urge to blush and looked him steadily in eyes. "You have no idea how miserable it has been without you. Or, maybe you can feel it?"

Jasper paused briefly, very briefly because he was beginning to expect the unexpected from his dear Alice, and answered her question with another. "Another vision?"

"Yes," she said, then her voice turned thoughtful. "It's odd, knowing what's going to happen. I get to see the different outcomes of a situation and, well usually, what causes them. I saw this very conversation start in three separate ways." She thought of something and sadness shot through her body. "Do you…not want to speak of this anymore. I know it's odd, but if you want I won't talk about it with you."

She actually _felt_ Jasper's confusion when he said, "I like everything about you, Alice. How could I possibly not accept the fact that you see into the future? It's just another part of wonderful _you_." Jasper's simple, straightforward way of speaking helped her out from the spirals her mind had been walking in.

"Thank you. It's hard; I don't know how I can talk about it, but you're here, and you…understand. It is the biggest relief I have felt in a long time. I've been having visions that are, to tell the truth, rather terrifying. Do you," she hesitated, "do you know a man with red eyes?" She didn't notice the pause in Jasper's dance as she looked off to her side to try and find the words to explain. "In my visions, this man, no a _vampire_, with deep red eyes is always connected with a building burning down. Jasper?" She looked into his shocked face. "What's wrong?"

"_Red _eyes? _Here_? Oh, Alice! You should have told me this earlier!" His frustration and worry started to work it's way to the dancing couples around them, making them fidget and look around in an anxious manner. "We have to tell Edward! We need to figure out a plan! We need-"

"Jasper! Calm down!" Alice hissed in a low voice. "It won't be happening for a while. Let us just enjoy tonight, because things start going downhill from here."

"Downhill? What do you mean _downhill_?" Jasper didn't want any cryptic messages or troublesome clues; he needed the facts.

But Alice wouldn't give them. She only turned and pointed to where the owners of the opera had stopped the musicians and were now standing in the middle of the platform on the lower floor with there hands raised in the air, asking for silence.

This was Edward's cue.

000

"When I speak," Edward whispered in Bella's ear, "look shocked and disgusted that you were dancing with the phantom." He tenderly kissed her on the cheek and started to walk at a leisurely and confident pace, only turning once to look back at his beautiful fiancée, who was smiling lovingly at him.

"We," Monsieur Clapp said in a voice that was meant to be humble, but just came out arrogant, "would like to thank each and everyone of you for coming her to our opera-"

He was about to say more, he had two pages worth of a speech prepared, in fact, but he was interrupted.

"_Your_ opera, my good Messieurs? Why, I do believe you are quite mistaken," voiced a melodic tone from the stairwell. All eyes turned to the man in crimson; slowly making his way down the middle of the grand marble staircase, coming closer and closer to the two men on the platform, who were currently cowering. They knew that voice. They, and many other guests who had been at the performance of _Il Muto_, had heard such a voice yelling down from the railing that circled around the chandelier. But the vicomte de Black recognized the man not from the opera, but as the voice he heard coming from behind Bella's door. _This_ was her Edward; the phantom. Jacob felt a sudden hot rage flare within him and he deftly inched his way closer to the fiend in red, drawing his sword as he went.

"Why so silent, Monsieur Clapp and Monsieur Banner? You were eager to shout falsehoods of my demise when I was away, but now that I am back, your tongues are still. What? Did you think that I had left you for good?" The phantom laughed with uncontained mirth, his heavenly voice bouncing around the deathly silent room. He strode gracefully to the bottom of the stage, taking a thick book of sheet notes and papers bound in leather, and handed it to the trembling Andre Banner with what would have been the up most degree of gentility, had it not been for his mocking smirk.

"No such luck in that wishful thought, I'm afraid. I have merely been finishing up something. You see, I have written you an opera! Here I bring the finished score – _Èclipse_! A few instructions now before rehearsals start: Jessica Stanley," he turned to her quickly with eerie speed and glared at her with savage topaz eyes; she didn't know whether to run away screaming or try to swoon into his strong arms, "must be taught to act, not her normal trick of strutting around the stage. Our male lead," Michael Newton whimpered when the phantom turned to him and poked him in his protruding gut with a cold finger, "must lose some weight; it's not healthy for a man of Michael's increasing age. And my managers," again the owners were under the fiery gaze of the ghost, "must learn that their place is in an office, not the arts."

The Red Death's face unintentionally softened as he looked at Bella, who had followed him down the stairs and now stood in front of him. "As for our star, Mademoiselle Swan, there is no doubt she'll do her best. It's true that her voice is as angelic as ever, but if she wishes to truly excel, she will return to me, her teacher." Bella had forgotten to look horrified, but Edward didn't care. He felt the unexplainable urge to take her into his arms and announce that they were in love, that they were engaged.

But no, he knew that they had to lay low. When the opera was done, they would leave this place. Forks, which had once been Edward's only place of refuge in an angry world, now seemed too tight, too small, and he felt caged in. He discovered that he wanted to see the people and places he had been excluding. But he had to finish his opera first, it was the thing that had stopped him from teetering over the brink of insanity for so long, and now, with its completion, he felt it would be a proper and brilliant end to this chapter of his life.

Edward resumed his sneering tone once more. "I bid you a goodnight, Messieurs," he bowed to Firmin and Andre, "and to you Mademoiselle," he bowed deeply before Bella and kissed her hand gently. He then started his slow, and gracefully menacing, way up the marble staircase, seemingly unaware of what the vicomte was about to do.

Jacob took this as his time to attack. What that…that _monster_ had done to Bella, twisting her heart with false declarations of love, was the last straw for him. Jacob ran up the staircase after the phantom, who was now near the top, with his sword drawn and a yell rising from his lips. He was about to plunge his weapon into the first limb Jacob could reach when the ghost seemed to…flicker.

Jacob was, in a brief moment, thrown onto the ground of the upper floor with his sword lying in the hateful hand of the phantom, who chuckled at the vicomte's foolishness. Jacob, unable to take that smug laugh, launched himself at the man in crimson.

The onlookers were stunned with what happened next. When the vicomte was sure to knock over the phantom, he only came into contact with a fluttering cape and the cold, hard ground. The Red Death had just…disappeared. No one but Bella, who knew where to look, saw the quick opening and shutting of the trapdoor which Edward had hidden from sight with the swirling of his large cape. It was simple misdirection.

Bella felt pity and fear claim her as Jacob stood up with a cry of rage, and started his way down the stairs to her. Not to be overcome by these irrational feelings for her old friend, she didn't move away or retreat when he grabbed her by the shoulders and viciously whispered, "Tell me where he went, Bella! I will end this right now!"

"No Jacob," she replied in a voice void of emotion. She brushed his hands off her shoulder with her own, and was about to say something more until the candlelight must have glistened on the surface of her ring, because Jacob took her left hand and made an indistinguishable sound; somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

"So," he practically growled, too low for anyone but her to hear, "you're engaged to that _demon_ now?" Again there was that odd noise he made before he continued, "Bella, I will not stand by as I watch you make the worst decision of your life! He has only tricked you!" And, Jacob's mind had tricked him into believing every word he spoke. "I will stop this unholy union, because _you_ belong to _me_!"

He said no more as he stalked away, wishing he had torn the hateful trinket off her finger. To the vicomte it stood for every evil and dark thing in the world, all the diamonds sparkled with uncontained menace, and the gold band trapped the innocent and mislead girl wearing it. Jacob sought to get rid of this deception, and the only way he could think of being free from the man in the shadows was by destroying him. In his mind, killing the very devil who had started this would end it all…and return his Bella back to him.

As he barked an order to his driver outside in the brisk night air, he was unaware that his mind had started down the first few steps to its inevitable descent of madness. The little lies he had told himself to save him from the pain of heartbreak grew and multiplied until Jacob couldn't tell what was real and what was a fabrication of his own mentality.

But such a small concern was overshadowed by his rapidly planning intellect. He intended to keep his promise to Bella, because, after all, she did belong to him.

* * *

**Just need to clear up a few things. Edward and Bella changed their opinions because Bella's parents never divorced, and Edward is so starved for some love, he can overcome his troublesome morals. Also _Èclipse _which means eclipse in French, and Ourang-Outang is actually the spelling used in the story _The Murders of Rue Morgue_. It freaked me out when I copy and pasted it only to find it had that red squiggly line underneath it in Word. I had to triple check the story to make sure it wasn't just pulling my leg. Well, I hope this makes you satisfied, or at least satisfies the people who would have noticed.**


	10. Unfortunate Discoveries

**Sorry, I've been buried under vast quantities of Neil Gaiman and Sherlock Holmes books, and have only recently been able to pull myself out. And, good news, I have another story idea which I have been working on!**

**Two people have brought up that in chapter seven I said that vampire had three syllables. Now, I have been racking my brain for a way to try and pronounce it with only two, but cannot. I apologize if I confused any of you, but where I'm from, we say it like vam-pie-er. Blame my accent.**

**Disclaimer: Clap your hands if you don't own **_**Twilight**_** or **_**Phantom of the Opera**_**. And if you strain your ears and listen **_**real**_** hard, you can hear a very reluctant pair of hands going **_**clap clap**_**. Yea, that's me.**

* * *

Unfortunate Discoveries

Paris, 1870

Edward had been watching Jacob for the past two and a half hours.

Shortly after the masquerade guests had been hurriedly shoved out the front door, wondering if Forks could ever go a night without some sort of catastrophe, though wanting to stay and find out, the vicomte came back on foot, in normal clothing for he did not wish to attract suspicion, and snuck into the opera house. Since he knew where Bella's room was, it was easy to find it in the often times confusing maze of hallways. Because of the late, or somewhat early, hour, Jacob decided to pull up a chair and wait outside her door, determined that he speak to her as soon as she got up.

Edward had been checking on Bella, which he found himself doing more and more these days, when he heard the vicomte's thoughts. Though they were mainly dominated by regretful and repentant ways of apologizing to Bella, there seemed to be a strange undertone that Edward didn't trust. It was like he had a split personality with each side wrestling back and forth for control. One was the sad but hopeful optimist that Jacob had been his whole life, but the other…

Being in the vicomte's mind while the latter had supremacy was like lying in a pit of writhing snakes knowing that any second one of their poisonous fangs will sink into your skin. It was possessive and cruel, thinking of Bella as a prize to be won from the unworthy hands of another. And to Edward's growing fear, it was desperate.

Desperation can make people do crazy things. They see no other possible way of overcoming a situation and often resort to dangerous and ruthless ways of achieving what they want. Edward had seen many desperate people barrel through ravaged lives and turn everything they touch to ash, not caring who became twisted and caught in their way. Edward felt uneasy when dealing with people of this persuasion, and with Jacob, he saw it as unavoidable. He couldn't do anything about it, but he could keep a wary eye and prepare for the worst.

Jacob, though unaware of the man scrutinizing his every action, knew that something was wrong with him. Thoughts that sounded entirely unlike his own came to him unbidden. He felt half terrorized and half empowered. This _thing_ that inhabited his brain was confidant and sure and so terribly convincing in its ways. He knew that it was wrong, but if he clung to it and followed what it said, he believed that he wouldn't have to deliberate and worry over a decision. He would be free of his self pitying and sullen thoughts. The thing would take over and actually _do _something about the mess he was in. Jacob found comfort in this pressuring voice.

As the night dragged on and the vicomte's head dropped lower and lower, his concentration dwindling, he slowly fell deeper and deeper into sleep, glad of the peace from his warring mind.

When Edward was positive that the vicomte was fast asleep, he stepped out of the shadows where he had been hiding and quietly entered Bella's room. He found her tangled up in her sheets and mumbling unintelligible things. He paused a moment and stood admiring his love. She looked almost too beautiful, like such exquisite features should only belong in the halls of heaven.

Snapping himself out of his reverie, Edward leaned down and gently placed his hand on the side of Bella's face, sure that she would wake up from the shock of cold skin. But she didn't. She only snuggled her head closer into his palm, seeming to savor the iciness. Somewhat puzzled, he whispered, "Bella? Bella, it's time to get up. We need to leave."

She slowly opened her eyes and, when she saw through the window that the sun was only just starting to rise, promptly closed them again. "No," mumbled her half wakeful voice. "I'll get up when it's actually daytime. Bella has to sleep…" the last part was somewhat slurred by a yawn that looked as though it was tearing her face in two. There was a pause for several moments until Bella opened one of her eyes again to glare at Edward. "I can't sleep when you're watching like that."

Edward chuckled and lowered himself to his knees, right beside her bed. "Watching you how? Can't a man appreciate the stunning perfection that is his fiancée?" He leaned in closer and placed a kiss on her lips, enjoying the way her heart sped up.

"Edward," Bella groaned when he pulled away, "you are much too charming for your own good. I can't even think of something that can make me angry with you now." She paused a moment in thought, then added, "You said we were leaving. Where?"

"It's a secret," he grinned. "Now, hurry, I want to be there by the time it's fully light out. Just be quiet, it seems as though your _admirer_," Edward couldn't hold back the grimace and distaste that snuck through at the word, "has fallen asleep outside your door while waiting to apologize to you."

"Jacob?" Bella gasped. "Oh, I don't want to talk to him now. Maybe later, but not now." She seemed so suddenly distressed that Edward decided not to press her on the issue.

"Of course," he soothed. "I'll be in the hallway while you change." He exited without noise and closed the door firmly behind him, turning to face the quiescent vicomte. Edward felt an unwelcome pity wash over him for Jacob. He had mocked, embarrassed and stolen the girl of his dreams from the clueless boy, and now he felt guilty about it all.

In a flash, Edward was gone and back, placing the vicomte's sword that he had taken at the masquerade in his lap. It wasn't much, completely miniscule in comparison to what he had already done, but Edward saw it as a peace offering; a small gesture of contriteness.

He would come to regret it.

000

When the sunlight touched Jacob's closed eyelids, he awakened with a start. _Bella!_ was the first thing his mind screamed, and he swiftly was on his feet, stumbling to her door. He stopped as suddenly as he began when he felt something drop from his lap and heard the sound of a metal object colliding with the wood floor. Pivoting on his heels he turned and saw the ornate decorations of his sword, which lay glittering in the morning sun.

Jacob could distinctly remember the cold and taunting face of the phantom at the masquerade, then the defeat that overcame him as he made contact with nothing but air and a fluttering, crimson cape. That _scoundrel_ had jeered and heckled toward him for the last time! He thought he could insult a vicomte, but Jacob would bear it no longer! He would use this sword to make that _Opera Ghost_ a true ghost indeed! Revenge would be his and so would Bella!

Fired by the thought of retribution, he stomped meaningfully to Bella's room, giving the door a fierce and sharp knock. After four moments of unwilling waiting, he opened the door to find her…gone…_again._

That slimy and conniving man had taken her away once more! Jacob ran out of her room and sprinted to the stables, the awful but supremely welcoming part of him had taken over and it had an intuition that seemed unstoppable and never failing. The vicomte threw himself completely to the guessing and speculating thing inside his mind, glad that he would no longer have to think about Bella in the arms of another.

He asked a stable boy where the singer Isabella Swan had gone to, and if she were with anyone. The kid had only responded by saying that she had been with a very tall gentleman, and, though he couldn't see his face because of the high collar on his cape, he could have sworn the man had been wearing a white mask. Then the boy had lifted his bony arm and pointed west, where the city gave way to the wilderness, saying that they had rented a carriage and started off in that direction. Jacob jumped on the first horse he could find, ignoring the indignant cries of the stable boy, and followed headed toward his Bella.

And his insanity grew just a little more, fueled by the anger and hurt Jacob was feeling.

000

Bella marveled at the wonder before her. Edward, who was sitting up in the front of the carriage with the horses' reins in his hands, was miraculously sparkling so brilliantly that it rivaled even the pristine diamonds on Bella's ring wherever the sunlight that filtered through the surrounding trees hit his pale skin. He had told her about it weeks ago, but it hadn't exactly set in until now. Bella supposed that seeing really is believing.

"You know," Edward laughed musically while casting Bella a sly grin, "it would be prudent to close your mouth before an unfortunate insect wanders in."

Automatically, her mouth closed with an audible _click_ and she blushed furiously. Even after knowing him for this long, she still was not used to the other-worldliness that was exuded in his every movement and action. Most times, like now for instance, she was only able to stare and gape much too obviously. "Can you," she changed the subject to hide her outrageous embarrassment, "tell me where you're taking me now?"

Edward only laughed and shook his head in response. She gave an impatient huff, mostly for his benefit, and settled back down in her seat, admiring the rainbows that bounced and shimmered off of Edward's exposed skin.

They continued down the dirt trail in the blossoming spring parks, the path becoming rockier and less traveled as they went along. Eventually, the wilderness thickened and the carriage was gliding on in only the dense, dew covered grass. Bella had never seen so much foliage and the never ending rows of trees and plants made her head whirl with its unfamiliarity. She had expected to hear birds and see animals, but none ever came. The seemingly empty woods echoed silently with only the sound of the horses' hoofs hitting the ground. Bella wondered distantly if this had something to do with Edward's presence, but she immediately dismissed it. How could they possibly know?

"There," said Edward, pointing a long finger ahead of them. "You may not see it now, Bella, but our destination is dead ahead."

Bella strained her eyes, but saw nothing. The carriage lurched as Edward goaded the horses to quicken their pace, and, after several minutes, Bella could see a blurred grey shape in the distance. It slowly came into focus and she saw that it was a stone wall. It grew in height and width as they approached, making an enormous kind of fence, for as time passed, Bella could see a corner and an elaborate black gate.

Bella's interest was so piqued she felt that she might implode if she didn't see what lay behind it. When the carriage came to a stop a yard away from the massive walls, Bella jumped out of it and jogged to the large onyx gate. Edward, who was only a step behind her, chuckled and made a comment that Bella didn't quite hear. Seeing her impatient smile, he took a key from his vest and turned it in the rusty keyhole. As the gate swung open and Bella saw what was beyond it, she gasped.

There were roses. Hundreds and hundreds of roses. They climbed against the stone walls, wound their way around the baroque legs of the marble benches, stood tall and proud in bushes of unimaginable size. There were porcelain whites, soft pinks, yellows and oranges as bright as the sun, delicate lavenders, purples so dark they looked black, and the crimson roses that made Bella's heart speed up. She turned to Edward and, in a voice so subdued in her amazement, whispered, "Where did you find this place?"

Edward guided her over to one of the spacious benches, this one surrounded by red roses, and answered, "It's been here for ages. Many years ago, there used to be a wealthy family that owned a vacation home in a clearing close by, but due to a fire, all their property burned to the ground. This was only saved because of its distance from the manor house. I found it while hunting some time ago and like to come here to think." He reached over to a rose bush beside them and plucked one of the scarlet roses from it, carefully and deftly removing the thorns then handing it to Bella. "It's also where I get the flowers I send you."

She took the rose and looked at it in something like awe. "I had always wondered where one could lay their hands on something as impeccable and without flaw as the roses you send me. I suppose I know now." Setting the flower down on the bench, she held his hand in her own and studied it closely, tracing her finger along it as if trying to find a seam or loose thread that would show that it was all just a clever trick. An unexpected disappointment clouded over her pretty features before she said, as if she were admitting a great failing, "It is all too perfect, Edward; the rose, this place, _you_. I can't help but feel unworthy. You can have anyone you want, but you chose me." She looked into his topaz eyes in utter seriousness. "_Why_?"

He held her face in his hands and met her gaze. "I love you because every time I look at you, I feel as though my heart is beating once more. You're the inspiration and muse I have been searching for as long as I can remember and you give me hope for a future I have dreaded and feared my whole existence." He stood up from his seat on the bench and turned his back to her, facing the roses, before continuing, "Since we are both of the impression that we are not good enough for the other, we must remind ourselves that either would be completely miserable and most likely catatonic without the other." Edward turned back around and pulled her to her feet by the hand, winding his arms around her waist. Studying her seraphim features, he whispered, "And, really Bella, how could you not think you are as beautiful, if not ten times as much like _I_ think you are, as the roses around us? I do believe that your insecurities are clouding your judgment."

Seeing the utter sincerity in his golden eyes, Bella found her mind agreeing with him; that she _was_ pretty, that she was actually wanted, not for only a moment, but _forever_. His need for her was finally portrayed to Bella as the same as her need for him.

She smiled and nodded her head, making his beaming face turn wonderfully adorable with his open admiration for her. They shared a moment of understanding then, forming a promise that required no sound, but made both of their hearts soar with what it entailed; they would be together no matter what, letting nothing separate them.

Unfortunately though, by the sound of an approaching horse, something – or some_one_ – was coming to do just that. Above, the clouds covered the sun, as if they were shielding it from the scene that was about to play out beneath them.

000

Jacob had been following the deep ruts of the carriage on the soft spring ground. Here and there he would become confused when there was an abrupt turn through the thickening foliage, but he remained determined. His legs and back ached because he hadn't even bothered to steal a horse with a saddle, but he would obtain what was his.

On seeing the high, stone wall, he dug his heels unmercifully into the horse's ribs, making it go from a gallop into an outright sprint. As soon as they reached it, he jumped off its back and pushed open the large gate, his heart pounding so loudly he thought he would go deaf with the sound of it.

The sight the greeted him made his purposeful stride slow to a halt. In the heaven and splendor of roses, Bella was being held by the man Jacob was sure he hated with every fiber of his body.

This jarred the madness from the vicomte and once more brought him to the painfully feeling sanity he was now furiously wishing away. His body seemed too gangly and uncertain, his heart too heavy to bear. He only stood in the gaping entrance of the garden, that deceiving and treacherous organ in his chest breaking all over again.

The phantom, who had protectively stood in front of Bella when he entered, as if the vicomte were a dangerous plague, uttered a short, hard "_Leave_." Jacob was only too tempted to run with his tail in between his legs, but he wanted – no _needed_ – to speak to Bella.

The lady in question had gently put her hand on the ghost's arm and appeared to say several calming words into his ear, for he relaxed his aggressive stance and stepped back. He still had his eyes trained coldly on Jacob's every move, and he seemed to have shifted his weight forward like he was ready to take action at any given moment, but he had still listened to her.

Looking as if she were regretting every step she took, Bella approached her childhood friend. She had tried to compose her face to one of careful indifference, but Jacob saw the fear in her eyes. Fear of _him_. A deep sorrow wound its way in his chest and he found himself babbling out an apology before his mind caught up with his mouth.

"Jacob," Bella interrupted, "I'm going to marry Edward," she didn't notice the grimace, "and if we are to be friends," or the wince, "you need to accept that," or the clenched and angry jaw. "He's a good man; kind and sweet and he _loves_ me." She continued on, trying to erase the disbelieving expression on her long ago friend's face, trying to make his see that she was truly happy. "Edward's been perfect to me. He even wrote me a lullaby! He made me a _beautiful _music box, Jacob, and it plays such a lovely song; so sad and hopeful it would make your heart break to hear it. And…"

As she was speaking, Edward was slowly and inconspicuously edging his way to her side. Bella may not have seen, but the vicomte de Black was growing more and more livid. His russet skin was flushed, his hands were shaking, and his mind was reeling. _No!_ it screamed desperately. _No! She cannot, _will _not, be with him! He's a trickster, a liar, a _murderer_. She's mine, she's _mine_, she's MINE!_

Jacob moved to hit her, slap her, push her down, _anything, _to make her stop speaking such nonsense. The vicious carelessness seized him and he lunged forward to make her come to her senses. But as he aimed for her soft and easily damaged skin, he was lifted into the air and brought to the furious and snarling eye level of the phantom.

"You," he growled and seethed, "will _never_ touch her again." Jacob felt a brief moment of weightlessness before he made rough contact with the ground. Framed by the thinning clouds above, the ghost looked more like a rebel angel than a spirit. He stood over the vicomte and shoved one foot painfully onto Jacob's chest, bruising several ribs. "You will not _look _at her, you will not _ever _be _near_ her again." To prove his point he dug his boot deeper into Jacob at each emphasized word. "The only reason I'm not killing you right now is because it would hurt Bella." His eyes were coal black, Jacob noticed with growing fear. Deadly black. "You may not care for her well being, but _I_ do. If I ever see you again, I will gladly have your blood on my hands."

The phantom removed his foot from the vicomte's chest, gently put his arm around Bella, and started to guide her toward the gate. Edward didn't look at the boy lying on the ground, but Bella cast her pitying and betrayed eyes toward Jacob. _How could he have fallen so?_ her confused mind questioned despairingly, but she didn't have the answer.

Meanwhile, the vicomte had picked himself off the ground, ignoring his sore ribs and bruised ego, and watched the love of his life walk away with a man she wanted to spend eternity with. Incensed by the humiliation, and his utterly useless attempts to stop it, Jacob acted on an instinct without even thinking about it. He ran toward the phantom and drew his sword, meaning to plunge it through the skin he had missed at the masquerade.

It was so sudden, so without warning, that Edward only had time to turn around.

The sharp and strong blade made contact with Edward's chest, right at the heart, but it didn't sink into the soft flesh as Jacob had imagined it would. Instead, the blade was sent flying out of the vicomte's hand by the force of impact, bent slightly at the tip.

As if the heavens were trying to prove a point to Jacob, it was _this_ time, this awful time, that the clouds parted and the spring sun came shining down on the inhabitants of the garden. There was an irruption of light so brilliant that Jacob had to cover his face. When he lowered his arm he saw what Edward really was.

A _monster_.

Though he looked like an angel as he stood glowing and shining, Jacob knew it. He didn't know exactly what kind of monster this man was, but anyone exhibiting such inhuman behavior _had_ to be one. His mind whirled to try and find logical reasons as to why any of this was happening, but every theory his brain threw out was quickly rebuffed at the nonchalance that both the ghost's and Bella's faces displayed at seeing this supposed to be spectacular phenomenon.

The vicomte bent down and retrieved his sword, seeing the part that should have killed or mangled the phantom was dented. The man's clothing was ripped and torn were the sword's point had met them, but the skin underneath was untouched and pristinely gleaming.

A great fear took hold of Jacob's heart. If the man he had been planning to kill was in fact invincible, and a _devil_ of some sort, then he could never have the revenge he was now centering his life around. He would be forever mourning his lost love and know, deep in his heart, that they are _still_ together, _still_ in love.

When the vicomte raised his eyes to meet those of the beast, he saw that this Edward was amused. The man took several steps in Jacob's direction, who in turn stumbled blindly backwards upon the cobbled pathway. "Oh!" laughed the phantom, throwing out his arms as if displaying something to an unforeseen audience. "How he trembles! _Now_ you can truly look at me as an enemy, can't you _vicomte_? You wished to merely run your sword through me, but now that you see it is entirely impossible, what will you do now?" In a moment, he was behind Jacob, whispering in his ear, "Surely you can't hurt me! I am too _quick_," he was now in front of Jacob, "too _strong_," the ghost had one of the marble benches hoisted above his head with one hand before setting it down again, "too _smart_ for you to even _think_ of getting rid of!"

"Edward, can't we just leave him be?" pleaded Bella from the gate, some desperation clouding her clear voice. "He has been through enough."

"See what angelic saintly hood she has!" continued the cruel yet musical voice. "Even after everything you have done to try and ruin her life, she defends you! She may readily forget, but I know you will be _cursed_ to remember, with _perfect clarity_, the wrongs you have done. Take a long look at what your festering mind has made you commit, Jacob Black. Before we leave, let me give you some advice: let this all go. Leave Paris and find a new life, one without memories to mar your future. Forget Forks, forget me, and definitely forget _her_, or else you will have many a sleepless night ahead of you. Trust me in nothing but that."

Then he was gone, pulling Bella through the gate. Jacob could only stand there as he heard the carriage rattle away, pondering over what the man had said.

_No_, he thought, _I will find a way to kill him. I want him to be on his knees, _pleading_ for death, when I am through with him. But I'll need help._

And he knew where to find it.

000

"So-"

"Shh."

"But-"

"Shh."

"Alice-"

"_Shh_."

Giving up, Jasper stopped pacing and sat in one of the chairs in Alice's room. For the past half hour they had been in complete silence, and the sense of quietly growing dread Alice was radiating had been taking over his mind, making it impossible to even think of anything else. Every time he tried to start a conversation, she would silence him with one of those infuriating "Shh"s and close her eyes just a bit more.

Another quarter of an hour passed before Alice jumped up from where she had been sitting on the carpet with a cry. "Oh, Jasper!" she turned to him with fear in her eyes.

He was holding her in his arms in a flash, rocking her slightly and smoothing her wild hair. "What is it Alice? Are they alright? What happened to the vicomte?"

"For a moment I thought Edward was going to kill him, he almost did, but something changed and I just saw them leaving Jacob in the garden. But now something worse is going to happen. The future I've been fearing… the one with that _man_… has only become more concrete than before." She looked up at Jasper, her violet eyes shining with tears, "What are we to do?"

"Whatever we can, Alice. Whatever we can." But he didn't know if what they actually _could_ do was going to help much. Jasper tried to take away as much worry as he could, but found that he himself was just as distressed about their future well-being as she was.

They stayed like that for hours as the sun moved across the sky before sinking behind the buildings, comforting each other as best they could.

…And, somewhere, a man with red eyes leaned back in his chair and smiled as he felt the winds of change shift to his direction.


	11. The RedEyed Man

**Now we meet the villain… Tell me what you think.**

**Oh, and notice the last name, because it's the guy who originally wrote **_**Phantom**_**.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, **_**still**_** don't own **_**Twilight **_**or**_** Phantom of the Opera**_**. I don't even own this computer…**

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The Red-Eyed Man

Paris, 1870

Deep in the slums of Paris, surrounded by the tight and crowded buildings and streets, there was an office with a red door. Blood red. Besides this one little feature, it was entirely forgettable. Inside it was neat and tidy; furniture, such a pesky thing to clean, was practically nonexistent. All the windows were carefully covered with thick curtains that had remained closed since the place was bought.

Come to think of it, not much of this humble abode was actually used.

The man who owned it was generally thought of as a recluse. The landlady, the only person who had had multiple and regular meetings with him, had told her curious and gossiping friends that he was "of middling height, entirely too pale, and he wears the oddest tinted spectacles." This mystery man would go out every few nights and, very rarely, in the day. A pleasant passerby who tried to be courteous with a tip of the hat or kind word would be rebuffed and ignored. Those who actually _did_ get to have conversations with him, usually in dark, black, and empty alleyways, would soon regret following the man.

On a copper plate nailed to the door of his business, there was, written quite simply:

**J. ****Leroux**

**P.I.**

This led many people to believe that this Monsieur Leroux was a private investigator, but if only they knew…Oh, how they'd scream…

The man in question was currently in his small room above his office, reading the daily paper comfortably in a plush armchair. This and a wardrobe were the only things in the bedroom. He smiled as he came upon an article proclaiming a young woman's mysterious disappearance, his ruby eyes glittering smugly.

The man set down the newspaper when he heard a person slowly and hesitantly knock on the bright red door. Getting up from the soft chair, the man lazily placed a pair of shaded glasses in front of his startling eyes and made his way down the stairway to answer the caller.

On his doorstep, fidgeting and twitching nervously, was a boy. "Are you…uh, Monsieur Leroux?" asked the youth, readjusting his coat for the third time.

The man with the glasses only gave a short, impatiant tap on the copper plate.

"Ah, yes. Of course, of course," blushed the boy with an embarrassed nod. "I have, um… an important matter to discuss with you. You see, Monsieur Leroux, I have heard that you deal well with affairs of the…_supernatural_."

"Then," answered the man, "if this is business, you are welcome in." Without a further word, he led the lad to an intimidating looking oak desk in the center of the room. Taking a seat in a large leather chair, the man's eyes were bright behind his glasses. "Now tell me of your case."

"Monsieur-"

"No, please, call me James." Truth be told, the man didn't like being called anything else. His last name may change, but James… _James_ was forever.

"Well, James," the youth had decided that he didn't trust this man, but he continued on. He thought his problem was much too important. "I am the patron of an opera house, and there is a man, though he's not really a man, I'm sure of it, who is terrorizing the performers, especially a young singer, Isabella Swan." While speaking, he had sat up from the rickety wooden chair he was on and started pacing rapidly in his distress. "When I tried to confront this _thing_, he moved with speed I have never seen before; so fast it's like a blur. And when I tried to attack him…" the boy turned his sullen gaze to James, "the blade of my sword _bent_ when it struck his chest. He didn't _bleed_. He didn't even have a _scratch_. I have heard, James, that you are a reliable man. Can you tell me what this unnatural being is?"

James sat quietly in his seat for several moments, merely to prolong the boy's suffering, before answering his question with another. "Is this man very pale?"

"Yes, white as a sheet."

"And is he exceedingly cold?"

The youth remembered the monster holding him by the collar of his shirt, and how he had desperately tried to unlatch the strong hold. "Yes." He failed to notice that these two descriptions fit the plain man in front of him quite suitably. James didn't feel the need to bring it to his attention.

"What does he look like?"

The image came readily enough in the boy's head; the monster snarling and threatening. "Unnatural. His features are too perfect, his eyes change from like to dark, and there is something dangerous about how he moves, silent and gliding and strong. He even…" the boy felt rather foolish for bringing this up, "_sparkles_ when in the sun."

James nodded as if this was the most commonplace thing in the world, which to him it was, before asking, "His eyes. You said they changed color, which colors to be exact?"

"From a light tawny to black."

"Never red? Hmm… what is this man's name?"

"Edward. I don't know his last name though."

James lapsed once more into silence as he plunged deep into thought. _There had been a coven of human-lovers, but they had just moved away. What were their names? Oh yes, Carlisle, who was the leader, Esme, his wife, Emmett, Rosalie, and Jasper, who stayed behind. It can't be this Jasper, though. I remember seeing him when I came to discuss hunting with Carlisle, he was wary, methodical; not at all the type to cause a scene. It must be someone else._

_Come to think of it, I _had_ sensed another vampire, lurking in the shadows, when I visited. I didn't want to bring it up in case they were insulted and I was out numbered. What if they had been hiding or sheltering someone the whole time? Surely that would mean-_

"James?" the boy's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Do you know what he is?"

Irritated, he answered bluntly, "A vampire."

A look of shock and horror spread its way across the youth's face. "_Va-vampire_? But they are fictional! It can't be! But if it is you must help at once, James! Bella, Mademoiselle Swan, is in great danger! She thinks she is in _love_ with that man! Please, you must get rid of him!" The boy was frantic and terrified, James had to get him out of here before he could think properly.

"Of course I'll get rid of him," he soothed. "You must not worry, the poor maiden will be safe. I will set off at once to explore this mystery and I am properly equipped with ways of destroying the monster. Just relax at your house and leave it all to me. Now, before you go, when was the last time you saw him?"

"A week ago. I would have come sooner, but it was hard finding you."

"One more thing," added James as he opened the door for the youth, "what is your name?"

The boy put on his hat and walked down the first few steps to the street before turning back. "Jacob," he answered, "Jacob Black."

000

Being a paranormal investigator amused James greatly. Not only did his terribly misled customers believe that their usually common problems were supernatural, but they trusted him to be just as human as they were. Though, very rarely, the poor man or woman was spot on with thinking a, to use their word, "monster" was after them. Then, if the situation arose, he would dispose of the creature. Then the client. Paris was _his_, and he didn't want another taking his meals.

The only time he had ever compromised was with the Cullens. They had been too numerous and much too powerful to try to force out by themselves. But they were also too kind to try and force _James_out. Their mistake. All they asked was that he didn't harm anyone from their opera house, which James didn't particularly mind; actors never tasted as good, too worried and strained for their own well being.

But now, he decided he could abandon the agreement. They were gone and weren't here to stop him. All they had was Monsieur Hale, who James was perfectly sure he could defeat if direct combat was necessary. Not that battle would be any fun. James preferred the art of cat-and-mouse. Toying with one's enemies made things much more fun; seeing them worry and jump in fear at every shadow or noise. That was where the _real_ satisfaction of the hunt came from.

With the happy thoughts of a challenge in James's mind, he began to think ahead for a plan. In a second he was back upstairs in his comfortable chair holding the newspaper in his hands. He had remembered seeing something…aha! There was to be a brand new opera performed on Friday, five days from now. With the excitement and crowding of this sure to be grand event, any of his kind wouldn't be able to notice James with the sheer amount of humans there. But, if her were to be able to find this mysterious Edward, he'd have to know the playing field. Surely there would be an above average amount of people practicing for the opera; dancer and ballerinas staying extra hours, actors trying to drill the lines into their skulls, and painter and carpenters working frantically to get the sets done on time. The place ought to be busy enough to hide him.

To be safe though, James waited three more days, collecting as much information on Forks and the Cullens as he could, planning at his large oak desk in the house with the blood red door.

000

Late Wednesday afternoon, James was sneaking stealthily in through the stables, giving that look of such complete and utter nonchalance, no one noticed that he didn't belong there. James walked slowly and methodically, letting his mind take in even the smallest of details, committing each and every thing to further illustrate his mental map of Forks.

He was walking through some of the lesser inhabited dormitory hallways when he found something…rather odd. If it hadn't been the way the muted sunlight came through the window, he was sure he wouldn't have been able to notice it. But, it seemed, luck was with the devil that day and James saw the way there were thin, practically transparent, lines on the wallpaper. It was a door. There was no handle, no lever, no…_anything_ that would open it from this side. That was what he thought, at least, before he looked down and noticed how one bit of the ornate molding was protruding from the rest. He tapped it experimentally with his foot and jumped back in surprise when the door snapped open. The moment he was in, the secret door was once more firmly closed, taking the light with it.

Driven by his incorrigible curiosity, James blindly felt his way in darkness that was so complete, even his enhanced eyes couldn't pick up a stray ray of light. How long he had been walking, he didn't know, but he _did_ know that smell of human blood was growing stronger. James was beginning to hear voices in the far off distance and, in his hurry to get out, he stopped feeling his way around so slowly and quickened his pace in that direction.

All of a sudden, there was a loud grinding sound and the floor disappeared from underneath James's feet. There was a brief fall where the terribly confused James plummeted soundlessly to the ground before connecting with the stone floor. Getting up and looking around, he was surprised to see himself looking back at him. Well over one hundred Jameses to be correct. _What trickery is this?_ he thought as he reached out and touched hands with one of his doppelgangers, who donned the same expression of bewilderment he felt on his own face.

They were _mirrors_; dozens upon dozens of _mirrors_.

They created a dizzying maze of floor to ceiling reflections, trapping James in a situation he had never been in before. He was lost and clueless as to where to go.

Not knowing what else he could do, since jumping to the now closed trapdoor was beyond his capability, James walked through the maze of mirrors, trying to find a way out. After attempting to shake them experimentally, he knew that they were much too solid and definitely reinforced to break through. Besides, he wouldn't want to ruin something and have Jasper and Edward to know he was there. James felt helpless; like a _human_.

Remembering the trick switch in the molding, James examined the floor hurriedly, looking for anything with a slight difference or irregularity. After what felt like hours, James's sharp eyes picked out stone that was higher than the rest. In triumph, he pressed it with his foot, only to find that instead of a magical door appearing out of nowhere, the room starting to _shift_ as every other mirror started swaying back and forth. The results were so complex and disorienting, that James only felt respect for the person who had thought of this.

He soon realized that this is the part where the captor would come in, to either free or get rid of the person caught in his trap. When James waited several minutes for the confrontation, he was surprised to find no one else with him. He was alone.

Feeling oddly slighted, he once more started his rounds of walking around the perimeter of the mirrors, looking for the secret to let him out. This continued on and on until he noticed something. Though the rest of the mirrors were seemingly random in their movement, there was one that made the same rotation every four and a half minutes, letting a slim gap come between itself and its stationary neighbor.

Counting the seconds since it last moved, James threw himself through the gap and was once more free. Dusting himself off and taking a look at his new surroundings, James saw that it was very much like the hallway he had been in before, only lighted by thin windows at the top of the wall. He saw something in the distance and ran toward it, finding that it was a rope, dangling from the ceiling.

James tugged it to see if it was sturdy, then climbed it as lithely as if he had been doing this his whole life. Beside where the rope connected with the ceiling, there was a trapdoor, not as cleverly hidden as the other, but still there. James quickly climbed up through it and found himself in the same pitch black hallway he was in before.

Now James understood. If the person who built this, he assumed it was this Edward, thought he was being followed, he would set the trapdoor for them to fall through, and then run here where he can climb down the rope and confront them in the mirror maze. James's respect grew a little bit more. This Edward must be a genius, but, brilliant or no, he would overcome him. After all, it was his job.

The same smell of human blood was closer now, and James followed it, making sure that he didn't fall into any more traps,

He eventually came to a fork in his path, and, after seeing some light of in the distance and hearing voices, he chose the right. Gradually, the candlelight grows and lets him see. There were fewer traps here, it was a safe route and James considered it to be his new main path through the opera. After several minutes of quick walking, he found what looked like the back of a mirror at a dead end. He pulled the handle and peaked through the small opening briefly before closing it again. There were two girls in the room; one with long brunette hair and the other with short black spikes.

He pressed his ear to the wall and listened.

"- but you _need_ new clothes," he assumed because of the high pitch it was the smaller, pixie-like girl.

"No I don't, Alice. You just want to take me shopping," replied a clear, musical voice that must have belonged to the other girl.

"Exactly," there was a pause where James assumed the girls were staring each other down before the one named Alice yelled, "Fine! But when we get to England, I'm taking you shopping!"

"But I think, considering the condition I'd be in, not to matter _you_ as well, we wouldn't be able to go shopping."

"I hate your logic, Bella."

"Besides, won't you be too busy with Jasper to worry about tormenting me?" _Jasper,_ James thought, _the _human_ is with Jasper Hale?_

"I'll make time. Oh! I could _make _you a dress!"

"_Alice_," groaned the other, "don't force me to rat you and your dirty plans out to Edward. He'll protect me."

"Oh," laughed Alice, "but he can't! Our knights in shining armor are away and you are left defenseless and in my power!"

They continued on after that; joking and laughing and talking about clothes, but James was too stunned. The _Cullens_ were sweethearts with these two human girls, _and_ they were away from Forks for the time being. This could play very well into his plan.

If it weren't so cliché, James would have started to laugh manically as everything fell into place.

000

"What will it be like in England, Alice?" Bella asked as her friend curled her hair.

"Just like we dreamed Bella, we'll be so happy." It was a good future, with Bella's wedding and both of them like Jasper and Edward. She saw the Cullens in her visions; happy that their two boys have found love. It was perfect. But, sadly, that was only what she saw _sometimes_. Other times, though… other times made Alice want to ran away right now, before anything bad can happen; before the sorrow.

Still she hoped and, when times like this arose, lied.

She continued playing with Bella's hair, imagining how it will look on stage, while she was singing. She had just decided that she should leave Bella's hair down when everything started to go out of focus and she froze half way through taking a pin out of her friend's hair.

Everything was laid out in front of her then, showing the direct path that they had all unknowingly set out. There were several possible outcomes, but if Alice didn't play her part now, things could turn sour real fast.

"Alice," asked Bella's concerned voice. She knew that look; Alice was having a vision. "What is it Alice? Is everything okay?"

"Um…" she snapped herself back into reality. "Oh, sorry. I just saw… how great you would be when you perform Edward's opera!" she half-lied. Alice knew that Bella would dazzle the audience, but she held back the rest from her best friend, hoping that she had fooled her.

She didn't, but Bella didn't ask any questions. "Thank you, but in order to make that come true, I have to go to rehearsal which I am," she looked at the clock, "already late for!" She ran and made her way to the door before looking back. "Are you _sure_ you're fine Alice. Is there anything you want to talk about? Anything at all?" Alice shook her head and Bella faked a smile, walking out the door and to the stage hoping that her friend was okay, and praying nothing would go wrong.

In Bella's empty room, Alice turned toward the mirror, knowing what she had to do. She was afraid, but that didn't matter. Desperately, she wished she could see Jasper again, but he was hunting once more with Edward, getting ready for when they leave on Friday. Settling for thinking of him, she pulled open the secret door and stepped into the empty hallway, thankful that it was lit.

She started walking; ignoring the rats, ignoring her fears, ignoring the fact that she was walking into more trouble than she could possibly imagine.

She just hoped she had done the right thing. Everyone's choice affected the future, but what if she had chosen wrong? Was she making everything worse by trying to help? She pushed those thoughts from her mind and forced herself to continue placing one foot in front of the other. It took everything she had not to turn around and run away right now, but she couldn't.

It was for the best. Or, she prayed it was.

And, from the darkness, she heard a voice, a man's voice, say, "Hello Alice. You just saved me from the trouble of having to kidnap you."

_It's for the best_.


	12. Too Late

**I was originally going to divide this into two parts, but I felt bad about the short chapters I've been giving you. So, here you go, a whopping 6,824 words! **

**Disclaimer: In the eleven chapters before this you can see various examples of fine, well thought out disclaimers. Go **_**there**_** if you want one.**

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Too Late

Paris, 1870

Around the two pale figures in the wilderness, there was no sound besides their occasional talk or the rustling of their movements. The animals had either ran away or were trying to not even breath lest these hunters would hear it and go after them. But the men could wait. Eventually something would cross their path. It always did.

In the deepest part of the forest, Jasper lifted his head and turned to Edward, who was sitting on a tree stump and reading a book, his fine clothes and expensively bound leather first edition contrasting humorously with his surroundings. _Edward?_ Jasper asked in his mind. _Do you feel like something's…_wrong_ at Forks?_

Edward's brow creased in confusion as he looked up from his book and at his brother curiously. "Not at all. Why?"

_It's just, well,_ Jasper felt embarrassed in trying to convey these things to his rational and clearheaded brother,_ that kind of… feeling_._ Would you mind if I go back to the opera early? It's silly, but I want to see if the girls are alright. _He mostly wanted to see if Alice was fine, though. It seemed like she was in, or about to be in, danger.

"Of course you can go Jasper." Edward stood up form his seat and asked seriously, "Do you want me to come with you?"

Jasper only shook his head. _No, you stay. Like I said, it's just nonsense, but it will be tugging at my mind for the rest of our trip if I don't check now. Goodbye, I'll see you on Friday. _

"Goodbye, Jasper," said Edward, but it was too late, his brother was already speeding through the trees, leaving a trail of unease behind him.

Jasper pushed himself harder. At this rate, he wouldn't make it to Forks until tomorrow morning. He desperately wished that he and Edward hadn't chosen to hunt in a place so far from their home, but they had both wanted the challenge of predators and there wasn't any decent game until you got farther away from the city.

Due to his talent, Jasper trusted implicitly in the power and truth of any emotion, and, when faced with a feeling that was unexplainable, he didn't ignore it as most would. The closer he got to Paris, the more it grew.

And the more it grew, the more certain he was that something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

000

"Come now, Mademoiselle, we must get to our destination speedily. Goodness knows we are already behind schedule!" There was a joint tearing tug on the wrist that he now held in an unforgiving grasp, hurrying her quickly tiring legs. Alice bit back her scream of pain and settled for wincing behind his back.

The hallways twisted and turned as they ran through the secret passages that Edward had painstakingly made years back. After narrowly avoiding a trapdoor that she had accidentally triggered, James laughed gleefully. "Oh, this Edward of your friend's," he said. "He is much too clever to be trapped away like this! If only we had met under different circumstances! I'm sure we would have been such good friends. It's a pity that he has followed Carlisle's unnatural way of feeding, his tricks are wasted here…" Alice bit back her angry retort.

Soon the dingy halls gave way to the towering caverns and sparkling lake. She had expected something amazing, but this…this was unbelievable. The pure beauty of it, though, was somewhat marred by the presence of her guide.

While pushing the boat along with abnormal speed, James looked at Alice irritably. "Why do you say nothing? You do not whimper nor beg nor fight nor threaten." At her lack of response, he threw the oar to the ground of the boat, grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and yelled, "Speak or I shall wring your skinny little _neck_ and continue on with your friend _Bella _in your place!"

The future Alice had been striving to make true changed and shifted. Now, it was Bella who had to endure the fate Alice had chosen for herself. Her mind frantically cried _No! No, it can't be!_ The deep steel in Alice's will arose and she felt words falling from her mouth like blocks of ice; cold and brittle. "What do you wish me to speak, Monsieur?" She cocked a delicate eyebrow and smiled a smile she had to fight desperately to keep in place. "Help, help," she pleaded sarcastically. "Please, let me go." She felt a moment of triumph as destiny re-aligned itself, but it was short lived as he carefully examined her face.

"Something happened," he said. "When I said you would be replaced with your friend and as you just finished speaking. What was it?" There was only silence and James realized what he didn't like about her; her eyes. Those violet eyes were too knowing, too sapient. The patient acceptance unsettled him. _She _was the one who was supposed to be crying and groveling for information, not _him_. But he couldn't kill her now; there was no time to go back for the other. He barely had enough time as it was, and changing plans was unacceptable. Frustrated, James shoved her back down to her seat and continued rowing.

The many platforms of Edward's home loomed in the distance and Alice felt a dread she had been trying to fight off take over her now frantically beating heart. She couldn't go back.

No one was going to save her.

The boat hit the shore with a slam, sending Alice sprawling to her knees at the bottom of the boat. There was a shifting of weight as James jumped lithely out and examined the room. "Very nice," he commented as he passed from picture to sculpture to sheet of music. "Edward seems to have taste. But, oh, what is this? '_Il Mio Cantante_'! Quite the romantic, isn't he? Well, I suppose all the greats have vices…failings…_weaknesses_. Isn't that right Alice?" He was beside her in an instant and pulling her up by the wrist. "And weaknesses are what work against you when they are discovered by someone who will use it for purposes not entirely… reputable, right?" He smiled and waved the music around. "I can only assume that '_My Singer_' is about his dear Isabella? No, only silence? Let me elaborate, then. _You_ will be a little pawn in _my_ grand scheme of chess, understand?" Again there was that calm, knowing look and he felt his normally controlled nerves snap. "Do you UNDERSTAND?" he yelled in her face. The instincts that had led him faithfully through the course of his long life were now betraying him; saying that she was not just any normal human.

"Do _you _understand," spoke the girl, her words slow and vitriolic, "that you cannot win? Anything you do will only end in your pain." She paused briefly, trying to make him believe her half-bluff, and steeling herself for what was to come. "I know what you plan, what I am to be, and I do not fear it, because I know you cannot win. Edward can _read minds_, you are powerless against him."

James's face changed slowly from his blind rage and confusion to a spine chilling smile. He led Alice to sofa and, even with a gentle push, her knees buckled and she landed with a _thud_. He leaned down over her, a maniac gleam in his crimson eyes, and pressed his cold lips to the side of her neck. Alice tried to struggle, to escape his blood curdling grasp, but his strength was rock hard and any attempt was futile.

"Despite what you think," he murmured into her ear, "you _will_ be afraid and I _will _kill Edward." She could feel his teeth on her thin skin, but she cast her mind out, taking any assurances that the future could turn out good. "Take one last breath, Alice; it will never be the same again."

James bit down.

000

It was early Thursday morning when Jasper made it to Forks. Passersby stared as they saw the tall man stalk through the streets; seeming to glide on air in his agitation. Everywhere he went, the people in his vicinity felt an unexplained worry and impatience knot inside them. They would look through their wallets, run home, check the children, inspect their valuables and wonder what was wrong.

As the grand opera drew into his view, Jasper forgot all precautions and quickened his pace, running, not to his full speed, but so fast several wondered if he was a sportsman. He burst into the marble lobby, frightening two women cleaning the floor, and sprinted up the stairs. He disregarded the confused Messieurs Clapp and Banner and barreled through the winding dormitory hallways. He was halfway to Alice's room when he felt something.

It seized the man and twisted his body in pain he had only felt once before, during his change.

He picked it out and managed to pinpoint the general direction this incomprehensible throe was coming from. Starting to feel it himself, he followed the tormented person's emotions blindly through the empty hallways.

Imagine his surprise when he came to Bella's bedroom. The poor, much abused door flew open and collided with the wall as Jasper marched in, confused and desperate for answers. Seeing that Bella, or Alice, weren't there, he could only think of one place the agony of pain could be coming from; the mirror door.

Jasper remembered Edward's multiple warnings to his family about the traps and dangers of what lay just behind the opera's unassuming walls. His moment of hesitance was short lived though as another wave of pain washed its way through the victim trapped somewhere in his brother's maze of passages and propelled Jasper to open the hidden door.

He stumbled and staggered through the now dim, for the candles were just about burnt out, hall, trying to avoid what could be his downfall. He became indecisive at a fork in his way when he heard the most heart wrenching and soul gripping scream fill his head.

He knew that voice.

His censure was abandoned as he took hold of his entire speed and raced through the stone passages, praying that he was mistaken, that it was someone, _anyone_, else. He ran as though all the demons of Hell were at his heels, not noticing that one was hiding in the shadows close by.

The senseless screams now took form of words and they were repeated over and over in an endless tirade of, "Jasper, oh please, Jasper, help me." He didn't think that she knew he was here, that she was only shouting the most comforting things she could think of to try and relieve the pain consuming her. But she knew, and she wished she could warn him of what was to come, but no, the plan must be followed.

"Alice!" cried out Jasper in anguish befit of the kind she was currently suffering. "Alice, I'm coming! Hold on just a bit longer, I'll be there!" He would have continued shouting, but a loud grinding sound cut him off.

A trap door sprung open right in front of Jasper. He had barely any time to react as made a desperate leap across the gaping hole in the ground and landed on the solid stone at the other side. He looked around dazedly, the normal effect of seeing Edward's tricks for the first time, and got up. Looking down the trapdoor, Jasper wondered suspiciously how Alice had gotten hurt in the first place. Could she have fallen into one of these?

He was about to continue running when he felt something new in the tirade of constant pain; smugness. Knowing that this couldn't be coming from Alice, Jasper turned around and came face to face with…

"James?" he whispered, incredibly surprised. "What are you doing-?" He stopped with sudden understanding. Through the triumphant way his crimson eyes glinted in the low light and the set of his body displaying that he thought he was dominant. Rage took over Jasper, stifling some of the pain, and he pounced on the man in front of him. "Alice," he spit in his face, "what did you do to _Alice_?"

The vampire in his hands only smirked and gestured behind Jasper. Not realizing what James was going to do, Jasper turned around and was astonished when he felt James's foot connect with his back so quickly and without warning, that all he could do was let gravity take its place as he fell into the dark pit.

James smiled as he heard the splash down in the far off distance. The tunnel was deep and, from what he could see of the walls, slick. It would be a _very_ long time before Jasper could find his way up. "Tsk, tsk," he waved his finger at the tunnel as though scolding a misbehaving child, "you ought to have known better than to fall for the oldest trick in the book." Shaking his head in mock disappointment, he walked back through the tunnels, waiting for the next part of his plan to come into play.

Wet and miserable and worried and feeling the pain of his love as she slowly changed into the cold and lifeless creature he and James were, Jasper sank like a rock to the bottom of the circular chamber. He wasn't able to stop laughing when this happened to Emmett, but under the completely different circumstances and what was at risk, nothing was comedic about this situation.

Pain ripped through Jasper's chest, making him writhe and convulse in the water, and he got an idea. Focusing on his sweet Alice's hurt, Jasper took as much as he could away. Handling more of the literally heart stopping agony than any being, even a vampire, could take, he then focused his breathing and envisioned Alice's face. An easily recognizable feeling ran through his body, and though it did nothing to ease the double dose of torture, he focused and reveled in it for a moment. Love was a powerful thing; it reinforced the desperate need Jasper that had to do what he felt necessary. He sent the warm tender feeling he had to Alice, hoping beyond hope that it helped, that it eased, her pain.

On the hard, stone floor of Edward's home, Alice continued screaming random names and phrases. It helped release some of the burning vocally, though her throat was becoming raw and her voice hoarse with the strain of it.

James was watching her intently from a nearby sofa, quite satisfied with himself. Due to the shortage of time, he needed to speed along her transformation; thus biting her at the neck, both wrists and both ankles. All the venom in the small girl's body would either change her much faster, or kill her. But James was willing to take that chance.

He got up and waltzed over to the grand organ in the center of the room. Not really knowing how to play, James hit the lower keys randomly, creating glowering chords that sounded as black as his heart. "You may need to worry, my dear," he crooned mockingly, "for, though you wish it desperately, your rescuer will not be here!" He laughed delightfully, his echoes bouncing back and forth on the walls in his mirth.

All of a sudden, his victim's half screamed babbling stopped. James was kneeled on the floor beside her in the next instant, listening to her heart slow from the erratic, venom induced beating. She ceased her tormented tossing and turning, becoming still.

James panicked, thinking that she was dying. His mind flashed desperately for another plan, another course of action he could take to get back on track. A dead girl would do nothing to help him. He had no leverage. James let out a sharp, outraged cry. _What_, he thought despairingly, _can I do now? All is lost._

"Jasper…" sighed a voice from the thought-to-be-dead girl before him. "Thank you." Her breathing was deep and normal, if it weren't for the clenched jaw and occasional gasp, James would think she was pain free. But why did she thank Hale? Could he have possibly stopped it? No…it couldn't be.

Unless…

James left Alice and retraced his steps to where he had tricked Jasper. The trapdoor was still wide open, but from the moaning and cries of pain that resounded from within, he knew that the man still was trapped.

"Is it worth it?" he yelled down the tunnel. "Saving her from her pain, only to experience it yourself?"

"_Always_," groaned the tortured soul below.

James was thrown off for a moment. His entirely self-serving ways were shocked at seeing someone intentionally put themselves in pain for the benefit of another. It was staggering to him; impossible. "Why?" he asked. "Why do you do it?"

There were splashes as Jasper fought to stay above water, he gasped for air he didn't need and felt the excruciating fire move into his chest, toward his heart. "L-_love_," he managed to cough out before the noise of moving water increased and screams of agony could be heard from underwater. James left then, not caring to see how Jasper would handle this tormenting burden he had placed on himself.

James had only been in love once. Or, it was the closest to love he had ever felt; he had a strong suspicion that it was only intensified lust. But he knew that _she_ had loved him. Victoria. He called her flaming red hair to his mind and felt no urge to smile. When he said he wanted to be alone, she threw a fit and ran off with a new vampire named Laurent, ready to seek misery and blood in the civil war of America. He didn't feel any sadness at her leaving or joy at the thought of her return. She was just a woman he could pass the time with. Nothing more, nothing less.

James wondered briefly if he were missing out on something. Something in his general makeup that would make him _feel_ something besides the highs and lows of the hunt. Perhaps he should leave; follow Victoria and try to go through his existence honestly. The Cullens were happy with their choice… His wondering ended. His brief thoughts were cast out; dominated by ones that relished at the fun of unfairness and reprimanded his second of weakness.

He smiled and easy smile and started to whistle a tune as the lovers twisted and turned in their pain. The venom wound its way through Alice's veins closer and closer to her heart and Jasper had a hard time trying to keep it all to himself. Sometimes, he would slip, and burst of fresh torment shot in her small frame. But she'd never blame him. All through his desperate struggles, Jasper could feel Alice returning his love, easing his pain with thankfulness.

It would seem as if the worst of it was almost over, but James had several more tricks up his sleeves, and he intended to use them.

000

Friday night was calm and lovely. It was the epitome of spring; warm and gentle winds blowing the fragrance of flowers from the parks. Excitement was palpable under the cloudless night sky with its almost too-large full moon.

There were long queues of superbly dressed upperclassmen and their couture wives winding around the magnificently lit Forks. Each person was abuzz with excitement at the opera being shown tonight. Rumor has it that it was written by the insane hermit that lives underneath the opera, claiming to be a ghost. Most said they were only coming to laugh at the mediocre performance it was bound to be, but, underneath all their airs, they were curious. Word from the musicians and performers had gotten out, and it was supposed to be the best that Paris has ever seen. Few truly doubted that.

There were several people in the crowd who had been to both the _Il Muto _disaster and the masked ball, and those few were uneasy with a fear that they didn't understand. They knew, deep down where only primal instincts and unexplained emotions ruled, that something bad was going to happen; something awful and beyond their human comprehension. But they shook it off, telling themselves that it was only the night sky making them feel odd. It had much too many stars; like in a fairy tale or another story of such nonsense.

Due to all the eager eyes waiting for the large doors of the opera to open, no one saw the tall man in the high-collared cloak slip past them, a bouquet of roses in his hand.

He soundlessly entered through the maintenance staff's door off to the side of the opera house. Taking care to stay in the lesser known hallways, the man seemed to disappear into the shadows when someone else, most likely trying to hurriedly finish a task before the opera started, came running down the corridor. He seemed to quicken his already ghostly swiftness as one particular door came into his eyesight.

Knocking a quick beat on the wood with his pale hand, the man anxiously shifted from foot to foot in impatience. His covered face lit up as the door creaked open and he could see the face of the most beautiful woman he would ever know. When she saw the roses and grinning face behind the cloak's collar and his mask, she merrily laughed, "Edward!"

She jumped into his open arms and locked her hands around his neck, hoping to never let go. "I thought you would be late," she sighed into his chest. "Forks has been a madhouse; your opera's in an hour, I'm not sure if I'm even ready, and I can't find Alice. What took you so long?"

He slowly kissed her on the lips, already making her forgive him, and said, "I'm sorry, my love. On my way back I thought it best that I should write to my family before showing up on their doorstep with two young women begging to be changed. And as for Alice, Jasper had left me two days ago; he probably got here yesterday, and has been with Alice ever since." _Though I can't imagine why he wouldn't talk to you,_ was what he wanted to add, but Bella was already too worried and he'd just make it worse.

Bella smiled in relief and looked at herself in the mirror, turning this way and that to inspect her costume and makeup. "Without her, I had to fare for myself." She ran a hand through the hair she had somehow miraculously managed to curl, "Do I look good enough to be on stage?" she asked worriedly.

Crossing the length of the room in four long strides, Edward was behind Bella, wrapping his strong arms around her slim waist. "You," he growled playfully, "look good enough to eat." The lovers continued looking in the mirror happily, trying to memorize how they looked together; how they wanted to be forever.

Bella turned and faced him, her pretty countenance frowning as she reached up and stroked the small white mask on her love's face. It was such a small thing, but the fact that she couldn't see him completely made her feel as though he were still hiding himself from her. Like she didn't have his whole heart. Edward saw her frustrated expression and grabbed her hand, kissing it gently. "Soon," he said. "You will know everything soon."

She nodded and bit her lip. "I love you Edward," she enunciated every syllable, letting the truth ring throughout the otherwise quiet room.

Edward's face softened and he leaned in, kissing her tenderly. "And I love you, too. Never doubt that."

And, in the cold comfort of his embrace, she didn't.

000

The audience was captivated.

The opera being played out before them seemed to surpass all that they had ever seen before. Such perfection in production and execution seemed to dazzle and daze many in the audience. Everything seemed so real. The performers were not performers, but heroes and heroines and villains and scheming nobles. The story seemed to cast a spell over the listeners. It was a satire on the world as it was; a society of deception and masks and weaknesses. But tinged throughout the foul acts, there was delightfully surprising humor, seemingly everlasting truth, and heartbeat increasing romance as the tragically doomed lovers tried to escape the forces advancing from each side.

And the music! Never had they heard such soaring and forlorn melodies accompanied by the most delicate of strings as when the lovers were forced to be separated. When the villain half-growled his way through his vicious and agonizingly jealous oath to avenge his dignity and promise to ruin the poor unsuspecting hero with sharp tension growing stabs at the piano keys, the audience either felt his justified anger right along with him or feared for the hero's future. There wasn't a dry eye in the whole opera as the devastated heroine fell to her knees and begged what ever god there may be to guide her through her indecision while the chillingly echoing brass orchestra swelled and enveloped her.

_Èclipse_ was a success that even the incredibly reluctant owners of the opera couldn't ignore. They briefly considered making a deal with the phantom they feared so. They would give him completely free rein over the opera in exchange for more plays of this splendidly remarkable nature. But, when they remembered what he had done, and he had killed, they cast it aside, practically _feeling_ the money slip through their fingers.

Only one person was not completely satisfied by what was in front of him; Edward.

His too keen eyes caught each of the little flaws and mistakes that no one else could saw; like how the lighting on the right of the stage was slightly off, or the way the cellist hadn't tuned his instrument correctly. Those were easily remedied, though. Edward had been able to fix the off light and tune the cello during the intermission. As if to ensure that everything else was perfect, he had given all the ballerinas new slippers, replaced a mysteriously missing violin bow, and repainted the slightly askew background with his impeccable craftsmanship.

All throughout, his subtle touches and modifications added something well loved and special about the opera. The inhabitants of Forks didn't quite know what to think of the instantaneous change of mien the phantom had gone through. They knew these things weren't being done by any of them, and, somehow, seeing for sure that the Opera Ghost was on their side warmed their hearts to him.

Well, all their sides accept that of Michael Newton. Though he was normally a very talented and robust performer, he was out of his element. He thought himself tailor made for rules of action and intrigue. The overall scope and meaning of the play went in one of his ears and out the other; none of the hero's courageous bravery or unending and powerful love seemed to be good qualities to the singer. All he saw was a non sword fighting man who snuck around in hiding to save his love's life rather than face the villain upfront. He didn't believe in the role enough to perform it as he should.

Edward, falling into the classic part of slighted artist, was personally insulted by the man's lack of respect. He had told himself that he wouldn't interfere, but after Newton missed four notes and hesitated in the stage direction, he saw no other choice. (Truth by told, none of these faults were really obvious; Edward just wanted reasons to back up his decision.)

He left his current seat in box five and made his way back stage. Though there was usually an unavoidable hustle and impatience to the people there, everyone seemed to have stopped and listened. Edward didn't even need to hide as he walked to where he wanted to go; they were so distracted that they just thought the man in the mask was part of the next scene.

Onstage, the hero was assuring his love that he would come back for her, and after a tear inducing goodbye, she left and the hero was about to make his departure as well when the villain and his cronies came in. The hero hurriedly hid and listened to the villain instruct his cronies to kidnap the heroine and bring her to the villain. They wondered off stage and the hero made his brave and valiant soliloquy, informing the audience that he will stop the plot. "But first," Michael said in the hero's thoughtful and planning tenor, "I will need a disguise."

Newton went through steps that he had been shown to do and stepped off stage to where a curtain and clothing were waiting for him to change into. They were there alright, but so was someone else.

Michael recognized him from the masked ball and bit back a terrified scream. "Wha-what…are _you_ d-doing here?" was all he could manage in a breathless and hoarse whisper.

"I am," spoke the apparition in his melodious voice, "no longer in need of your services, Monsieur. It seems you lack the emotion I was hoping our noble hero would possess. But," he held up a length of rope menacingly, "to make sure you don't ruin the finale, you'll need to be…restrained." Before Newton could process what the man had said, he was bound and tied to a nearby pillar, carefully out of sight. The ghost ripped a strip off a forgotten fabric that had been lying on the floor and advanced toward Michael. "And to make sure that that rather faulty timbre voice of yours doesn't reach any of the audiences' ears…" he trailed off suggestively, raising the rope for further affect. Edward gagged the opera singer and stepped back to admire his craftsmanship. Before he left he turned to Michael and warned, half mocking and half deadly serious, "Now don't try to cause any trouble." From the look on his face, Newton wouldn't.

Just as Edward was wondering if he had to wear Michael's much too large costume, something caught his eye. There was a bag hung carefully on a hook on a wall close to where he was standing. He could see a note attached to it.

It said:

_Wear it. Trust me._

_Alice_

Skeptically, Edward reached in and pulled out clothes that looked exactly like the ones Newton was going to put on, if not a bit better, but his size. He shook his head and smiled. He should have known this was coming when Alice forfeited her part as a ballerina and chose to be in charge of costumes. Edward was surprised that she wasn't here to rub it in, but she could just be getting ready to leave with Jasper.

He was relieved to find that the costume was not extravagant; it just had normal, perhaps a tad tighter though, pants, gleaming knee high boots, an elaborately decorated, but still tasteful, cape that Edward particularly liked, and… oh no.

Edward took back all the thankful feelings he had wanted to express to Alice later at the sight of the shirt. It seemed deceivingly simple with its plain white cotton make, but one look at the ruffled neckline made him want to cringe. Not only were there ruffles befitting a woman's blouse, but the neckline seemed to be more plunging than it ought to be. Edward realized this was opera, but was revealing his chest necessary?

He heard that the hero's part was approaching and gave up his internal battle. After pulling on the clothes reluctantly, Edward saw a black mask that would cover the top half of his face at the bottom of the bag. Placing it on and looking into a nearby mirror, he thought he looked quite the part of a dashing hero, despite the shirt.

000

The audience waited with bated breath as the heroine, played by that new and talented actress Mademoiselle Swan, fell to her knees and began to sob quietly into her hands. She turned her face up to the sky, making the tears on her face shine dramatically, and seemed to try and convince herself of something. The silent onlookers in the velvet seats felt like they were suffering as well; it was hard to not be dragged into the situation. The poor girl had just been told her love was dead, and even though they knew it wasn't true, knew that the villain had lied, a few of the audience members dabbed their expensive handkerchiefs to their leaking eyes.

A spotlight drew their attention to the other side of the stage, where a man was emerging. Though he was a completely different man, they knew he was the hero, come back and in disguise like he had promised, ready to risk life and limb for his love.

The man opened his mouth and everyone was stunned. The voice that came out of the hero was completely and utterly heavenly. It seemed to pour out of his heart and run into each of theirs. The girl on stage sharply raised her head in shock, just as the character would have done at seeing her supposedly dead lover appear in front of her, but she and the man knew it was genuine surprise.

Bella knew it wasn't just surprise though. She was ashamed to admit it, even to herself, but seeing her Edward being lit up by the bright stage lights, his copper hair taking on a seemingly unearthly sheen, while his toned and muscular chest was being accentuated by the frill of the shirt made Bella's heart speed up like it never had done before. Her mind couldn't function as she mechanically got up and ran over to his arms like she was supposed to before joining him in the duet.

Hearing the beautiful and enthralling combination of the tenor's and the soprano's voices made everything seem brighter and more _there_. Love was tangible when the hero gently kissed her forehead and they professed their undying need for each other. They were going to leave the city and all its problems. They were going to live happily ever after. They were never going to be without each other.

Until the villain stepped in.

He and his cronies surrounded the lovers, forcing them up onto a bridge built over a river that was made superbly by the opera's effects group. They had made smoke machines from the notes and directions provided mysteriously for them in a red wax sealed envelope and it made the center of the stage look like a swiftly moving and completely dangerous river.

As one of the cronies shouted up to the hero to reveal himself, Edward found that he enjoyed playing in the opera; the singing, the acting, the audience hanging on your every word. He understood why all the performers stayed here, even with the low wages and unfair hours. They loved it here, plain and simple.

Edward looked down at Bella and stared deeply into her eyes. Now was the part where the villain came up and took off the hero's disguise, declaring who he was. He felt his long time fear knot in his stomach as the actor stomped purposely up the stone steps of the stairs. His mouth opened, the beginning notes of the next song already humming on his lips. It was now or never, he told himself. He tried to be coldly impartial as he thought, _either she loves me for everything, or she'll run_, but his heart already began to twist at even the thought of her not loving him any longer.

Time seemed to slow as the villain drew nearer to the hero. Edward's mind had sped up and he was now trying to fight back his desperate need to run away, to hide, or to simply knock over the villain. His fear was trying to talk him into doing any one of those things. The only thing keeping Edward from doing them was Bella. She looked at Edward not with vulgar curiosity or foreboding dread, but the same loving expression she always had when she was with him.

The villain's hand was now out stretched when Edward heard something coming from the upper railings. It was a voice, though Edward knew it wasn't being spoken out loud, he was shocked to hear it. _Hello Edward, _it taunted in the man's head, _this is the most inconvenient time to tell you, but…_ An image of Forks's famously large and magnificent chandelier crashing to the full house of occupied seats filled the man's mind. Edward focused in and saw the man's thoughts as he took out a blade and slowly moved it toward the chandelier's support ropes.

Just at the moment this horrific future played out before Edward, the villain snatched the small black mask from his face, seeming to feel like he did something wrong when he touched the ice cold skin. The mask was cast down to the floor where it hit with an echoing clash.

The sudden feeling of being relieved from an overbearing load filled Edward's heart. A gasp seemed to travel through the opera as performers and audience members alike put two and two together. "It's him!" they whispered to each other. "That is the first time the Opera Ghost has taken off his mask!" They marveled at the angelic and unearthly perfection that seemed to run off this man in waves. They could only stop and stare at the phantom.

They were broken out of their trance when the man made up his mind and stepped forward on the bridge. "Run!" shouted the beautiful man on the stage. "If you value your lives run! LEAVE!" he roared. In the blink of an eye, he took a firm hold of the brunette singer and jumped off the bridge, disappearing into the mist.

There was no time to question each other as to where they went though, because the chandelier above their heads shook and jingled. It lurched once, twice, thrice, before the chords broke and it came crashing down above them. The drapery it flew past caught fire and it careened toward the audience.

They ran as the smoke already started pouring out the windows into the clear spring sky.

000

Bella buried her head deep into Edward's chest as they fell through the trap door and landed lightly on the ground. She could hear screams of terror and fear from above along with a dangerous clashing and crashing that shook the foundations.

Despite the mayhem of their situation, Bella couldn't stop her eyes from being drawn up to Edward's face. The disfiguration and horror she had been expecting was now the exact opposite. The right side of his face was the symmetrical twin to the perfect left side. Never had he looked so unreal, so beyond comprehension. The mask she had only resented seemed like the foulest thing in the universe for covering what lay underneath.

Edward's more keen hearing caught the discord above as the rich fought and scraped to get out of the building. He knew it could only get worse from here, and if, God forbid it, something_ did_ happen to him by the hands of this man, he didn't want to die with any secrets. He felt that getting rid of his mask had lifted the weight of the world off his shoulders, and he wanted to feel truly free.

He turned to Bella and kissed her passionately, _because_, he thought, _it might be my last_. She pulled him close and returned his gesture with much enthusiasm. The feeling of his whole face underneath her hands made her feel more complete than she ever thought she could. When Edward pressed himself closer to her, though, she began to realize what he was thinking, what this meant. He thought their time together was limited and needed, desperately needed, for her to know how much she meant to him.

Edward pulled back and looked into her beautiful brown eyes, wanting to remember her as she was now; completely beautiful and full of life and love.

She ran her hand through his hair and tilted her head to the side, silently asking him what was wrong.

_Now or never_, thought Edward once more. "I'm ready to tell you now. I _need _to tell you. Do you still want to hear?"

Bella nodded and smiled encouragingly, grabbing his hand in hers. Edward took an indecisive gulp of air and started pulling her down the passages to his home, his angel's voice bouncing off the walls as he told the winding and gnarled story of his past.

**

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Come on, I'm not the only one who was happy to see Mike being bound and gagged. Or Edward's Fabio shirt. Admit it, you liked them.

**Next chapter, we learn of Edward's past…**


	13. Painful Memories

**I don't care if it's too late for an interlude, you're getting one anyways.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, nada, naught, nil, nix, null, zero, zilch. (Ha ha, I love the thesaurus.)**

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Interlude: Painful Memories

Annecy, 1813

Snow gently fell from the dark, winter sky, leaving a delicately erratic splattering on the dark coats of the bustling French citizens. People were barely distinguishable with their collars drawn up and their hats drawn far down over their brows. Smoke seemed to be pouring out of the chapped mouths and runny noses of the pedestrians. Everywhere, coats and scarves were held tight around the owners' bodies as they tried to get as much heat as they could out of them.

Among such similar surroundings, one would think that Carlisle would realize how much he stuck out - how no breath could be seen in the air, or the fact that he was only wearing a semi decent fall jacket, no gloves, no hat, and no scarf – but his mind was otherwise occupied.

It was that time again; the time when Carlisle must uproot his family. He had currently been studying under the tutorage of a brilliant doctor, but he could no longer pass for the thirty five year old man he was claiming to be.

Now, when he was left alone while Esme, Rosalie, and Emmett went hunting for ibex in the Alps, he decided to walk one last time through the streets of his beloved Annecy. At each street corner and bridge he'd remember a happy moment. There was where he and Esme would take strolls through the park. That was the church where Rose and Emmett got married…again. The charming store over there is where Esme would shop for paints and furnishings for their house. Such splendid times… Carlisle breathed out an unhappy sigh as he continued ahead. It felt like the end of a truly good era.

Up ahead, there was a large tent being slowly filled by people. Carlisle, thinking it was a _Punch and Judy_ show, hurried his pace to try and find something that would make him laugh and forget about his troubles for a while. When he paid and entered, he realized this was no _Punch and Judy_ show; it was a freak show.

On small stages, various "freaks" were displayed and performed. Carlisle could see "The Strongest Man Alive" lifting weights with one hand above his head. "The Bearded Lady," who would have been quite beautiful if she lost her facial hair, was calling a stranger out of the onlookers to tug her beard and see if it's real. A man swallowed swords in the corner, Siamese twins performed acrobatic stunts, and a woman was predicting futures in an authorative and loud voice.

Carlisle felt uncomfortable. All these men and women drawing attention to their differences and oddities made him feel as though his were more recognizable and apparent. Wanting to leave, he went through the first open doorway in the tent he could find, but instead of the open air and familiar setting of Annecy, he was in another room.

Centered, for the entirety of the growing crowd to see, there was a large cage standing ominously in the room. Curious, Carlisle began shoving his way to through the people to see. From beside the cage, a dirty and rough looking man was shouting through a brilliantly red megaphone. "Welcome," his baritone voice boomed, "to our humble circus! Here, we have the most dangerous and disgusting creature your eyes will ever have the misfortune to see! Come," he beckoned toward the crowd. "Come and see the Devil's Child!"

Now in the front, right against the bars of the cage, Carlisle could see a lone figure sitting in the center of it. It was a boy that appeared to be only seventeen or eighteen years old, shivering in only a ragged pair of pants. You could count his ribs, for they protruding out of his malnourished body, and they cast a sharp relief of shadows over his dangerously thin stomach from the overhead lights. He was tall, pale, and somewhat fit; ropes of lean muscle could be seen standing out from his under-fed body. A burlap sack was over the boy's head with two large holes cut out, showing a pair of frantic and frightened emerald eyes.

Pity and compassion flooded Carlisle's body as the man who had had the megaphone picked a whip up from the ground beside the cage. He let himself in and looked toward the crowd. "Perhaps," he cried, "he needs _motivation_!" The whip dug viciously in the boy's back and he tried to bite back his yell of pain, only a whimper escaping. When the boy didn't remove the sack, the man laughed darkly growled, "Come, let them see your _pretty_," the whip was brought down again, "_little_," and again, "_face_," and again. After the last, the boy finally let out a cry of agony, and then did they hear the beautiful quality of his voice, even in its hoarse and strained condition. The boy, defeated, let his hand hesitantly creep up his face before he slowly and regretfully pulled the mask off.

Even Carlisle, with his years of medical practice, couldn't restrain his gasp. The boy was a walking contradiction; on the left he appeared as heavenly as his voice, but on the right…he was a monster. Intense scarring marred the top right of his face, pulling down the bottom lid of his eye, creating a lump on his cheek, and ridding him of some of his silken, copper hair and his one eyebrow. The whole thing was a swollen angry red, looking like a burn that would never go away.

The jeering started then; cries of "Monstrosity," "Beast," "Demon," and "Abomination" filled the large room as people threw food and garbage at him. Carlisle felt his heart reach out to the poor boy, who was standing in the center of a mob of people with practically every one of them laughing at _him_. At his _face._ His shoulders slumped into an unwilling acceptance that had taken years of such situations to form. His startling eyes were downcast, staring at his grubby feet.

Then, there seemed to be a change in his whole demeanor.

He straightened his back, elongating his already tall body, and raised his head, showing the crowd his inadequacy. His eyes swept the room, seeming to look at each and every face. The laughing and name calling ceased. Everyone looked around at each other uncertainly, seeming to ask themselves, "Is this the same person as before?" This young man looked beautiful, despite his obvious ugliness. He seemed to radiate a power that was beyond anything they had ever seen. "Are you _enjoying_ yourselves?" he asked in a voice that would have made an emperor's knees shake. "Is this evening _entertaining_ enough for you?" The man who had beaten him was now reaching for his whip again, unsure of what to do; the boy has never spoken like that before.

The boy stared his imperial glare at the crowd around him, silently challenging them. "Are you not _amused_?" his voice rose to a mocking yell at the last word. "Look at my face! Doesn't it make you want to chuckle?" He was now stalking around the sides of his cage, leaning in to individual people. "At least _my_ flaws are out for the whole world to see. _You,_ though, you will try to hide _your_ flaws your whole life, and it will fester and grow and double until you will have no choice but to confront the monster you have become."

The man was now behind the boy, his whip raised in the air, ready to strike. Pivoting on his bare heel, the boy came face to face with the man, snarling in his face, he said, "Do you intend to inflict _more_ pain, _more_ torture? I will have _no more_ of this life!" With a strength that seemed unreal in his frail body, the boy launched himself at the man, tackling him to the ground.

Before he could do much damage, though, five more of the circus's employees came running to aid the man, with straps of leather and whips of their own in their hands. They pulled the boy off and thrust him face first into the side of the cage. The man got up to his feet and picked up his whip once more, murder written on his face. "You truly _are _the devil's son!" The whip whistled through the air, hitting the boy's already bleeding back relentlessly. "The _world_ will be better without your existence!" New cuts appeared on the boy's back, turning his skin raw. "I'm doing society a _favor_ by keeping you locked up!" Sobbing openly, the boy doubled over in pain, his dangerously thin body convulsing and shaking. With one last whip, the man straightened up and kicked dust into the newly formed bruises and open wounds, making them sting and itch. He whispered, just loud enough for the boy to hear, "Your own _mother_ never wanted you. Why would anyone else?"

He left then, followed by the crowd. They all filtered out, not talking, not preparing for the cold that hit them so suddenly, only pondering over what they had seen, what they had heard, what they had _done_. They didn't know whether to feel ashamed or outraged; they just ended up confused and would, in later years, look back at this moment in their lives, _still_ wondering.

One person stayed by the cage and the bleeding boy though. He stared with sympathetic golden eyes at the mess that had become of the young man's life. The pain, the trauma, he would probably never get over. Making up his mind fast, Carlisle bent the bars of the cage and lithely stepped in.

The boy barely realized what was happening as two cold hands checked his wounds, pressing and prodding gently to see how far the cuts were. There was a _tut_ing sound, as if the owner of the voice was let down and disappointed. The boy tried to speak, but he found that his mouth was full of blood, and he only produced a pathetic gurgle.

An urgent voice filled his ear, "Do you want to live?" The boy didn't understand what it meant. He knew that he was going to die; the puddle of blood forming around him was proof of that. Still, he couldn't find a way to make his jaw work, it felt as though it wasn't even his own.

"You," continued the compassionate and velvet voice, "can live if I…_change_ you into what I am." There seemed to be a hesitation before it abruptly let out, "I can turn you into a vampire." The boy, even in his pain muddled mind, was shocked. Vampires didn't exist; they were just stories. He realized the voice was speaking again, and strained his ears to understand the rush. "- be difficult, and the life is hard, but you can actually have the chance to _live_; not be trapped here going to waste. _Do you want to live?_" repeated the voice.

The boy's mind was frantic. Living beyond this cage and circus? He had never hoped for such a thing in even his wildest dreams. Even if this was all nonsense, he would die anyway, so what's the difference if he agreed? Besides, this mysterious man was the first person to ever be kind to him; he probably would have agreed to anything he said. "Y-yes," he managed to say through the blood and dirt and pain.

Carlisle decided that f he didn't do it now, the boy would probably die. He took off his coat and pressed it against the cuts, hoping to at least stop the bleeding. Then, praying he wouldn't regret it, he bit the boy's wrists, injecting the venom that would end his life.

000

Esme, Emmett, and Rose entered Annecy in the very early morning, laughing and talking quietly amongst themselves. Emmett was trying to impersonate a bear as he lumbered down the streets, making growls that sent the girls into fits of giggles. When he started to "maul" Rose, Esme went up ahead, shaking her head in amusement.

Their house, which stood proudly on the outskirts of the town, came into view, but, Esme thought, something was wrong about it. She quickened her pace and burst in through the front door warily. She could hear groaning coming from upstairs, accompanied by the smell of fresh, human blood.

Worried and confused, she ran up the stairs, calling her husband's name. She followed the smell, and came to their guest room. Before she could enter, though, Carlisle stepped out, covered in blood. "Esme," he said hurriedly, "tell Rose and Emmett to stay downstairs; they've just gone hunting, but I don't want to risk anything with Emmett still being so young. Then, could you please get me several towels and come back here. We have a…situation." He disappeared once more into the room.

Esme, even more worried and confused than before, did all that her husband asked; she told Rose to keep Emmett downstairs no matter what, brushing off Rosalie's demands to know what was happening. Then, with seven towels in her hands, she entered the room where the moans of pain were coming from. What she saw shocked her.

Lying face down on the guest bed, there was a young man. He would try to move and turn around, but Carlisle kept him down, trying to tend to extensive cuts on his back. Esme almost dropped the towels when she saw the boy's face, so scarred and distorted, yell out in pain as what she assumed was venom worked its way closer to his heart. Trying to maintain her composure, she approached Carlisle and handed him one of the towels, watching silently as he removed his bloody coat from the boy's back and replaced with the towel.

After he was done, Carlisle turned to his wife, a pained and sympathetic expression causing the space between his eyes to crinkle and his mouth to turn down into a frown. "He…just looked so sad, Esme," he tried to explain. "So helpless. You should have seen the way they treated him; like he was an animal instead of a human, just because of his face." He looked desperately into her golden eyes. "Did I do the right thing in giving him this? Will he thank me or hate me?" Carlisle wrung his hands and stared helplessly at the dying figure on the bed. "He's had such an awful life and I fear that I'm only prolonging his torture."

Esme, not knowing what else to do, embraced her husband and whispered in his ear, "I am sure he will be thankful, Carlisle. You have done the right thing." She hoped he had, at least. Though, in her eyes, her husband could do no wrong, so she quickly banished the doubt and asked what she could do to help him.

"We can only wait, I fear," he sighed and sat down in a chair, beckoning her to sit beside him.

The hours came and passed in the small room with the only sound being the screams of agony coming from the figure of the bed. Later in the evening, the boy started to struggle more, and they were forced to hold him down. Soon after, the venom reached his back, and the wounds sealed and grew back themselves, the skin becoming tougher and paler. Once it was healed, they allowed him to lie on his back, and watched in amazement as, late the next morning, his face started _changing_.

The skin paled from its bright red turned the same abnormal pale as Carlisle and Esme's. His hair started to rapidly grow back from the bald spot and his eyebrow seemed to appear out of nowhere. The pulled down eye reshaped itself, turning the same wide almond shape as his left eye. The welt on his cheek flattened as his cheekbones became more prominent, his face more angular. The change was painful and lasted until the night, when his body started filling out with muscle, transforming his frail thinness into a healthy and athletic body.

The boy had been trying to hold back the screaming, but once the third day came around, he felt as though his body was being burned and shredded over and over and over again in some twisted and sick kind of hell. As his body started failing and his organs became cold and motionless, he could find himself thinking over what the kind man had said, about turning him into a vampire, and he supposed the man had told the truth.

The whole time during his change, the boy was aware of voices filtering in and out of his consciousness; the man from before, and a new woman, who would press a cold towel to his forehead and whisper sweet reassurances in his ear. The boy wasn't used to such treatment and thought it very strange to be caught in the pure agony of hell with what seemed like angels guiding him through it.

As the third day grew to a close, the boy could feel the anguish die down and recede, leaving his newly odd feeling body in a wave completely and utterly welcomed. The voices that he had heard seemed to multiply and come from all places.

Carlisle and Esme jumped to their feet, the former checking to see that the boy's heart was indeed dead, and the latter brushing the boy's soft hair away from his face. When the boy opened his newly red eyes, he saw the two standing before him, smiling hesitantly and looking at him with concern. The blonde man spoke first, "Hello, I am Carlisle Cullen and this is my wife Esme. We are glad to see that you are fine now. May I ask as to what your name is?"

The boy sat up and looked between the two of them before answering, "Edward. It used to be Edward Mason, but since… now it's just Edward." He cocked his head to the side and listened for a moment. "Where is all that noise coming from? Where are we?"

Carlisle resisted the urge to look confused. "We are at my house, in Annecy. Is something wrong, Edward?" _What noise? _he thought to himself. _Not even Rose and Emmett are talking._

Edward looked back at Carlisle. "If by Rose and Emmett, you mean the two people downstairs who are asking why my screaming has stopped, then that is the noise I was speaking of. And the people outside of course, this is a very loud street you live on." He shook his head, like he was trying to shake out a thought.

Esme peeked out the window and looked around, her sharp eyes seeing nothing for miles. Knowing that he was a new born, she told herself it was because he might have sharper hearing than her and Carlisle.

Edward surprised her by appearing beside her at the window saying, "It can't be just because I have sharper hearing, this is _really_…" then he caught sight of the empty fields of snow, finishing weakly, "…loud." He started pacing the room, trying to explain it all. "Can't you hear them? I can't make it all out, but there's a woman saying her baby might be sick, and a man complaining that his shop might go out of business, and – and _you_, you're the loudest, saying that there might be something wrong with me," he turned to face Carlisle and stopped speaking immediately. "But your lips aren't moving… What _is _wrong with me?" He sat heavily back down on the blood stained bed and placed his head in his hand in defeat.

Esme, her heart going out to the poor lost boy, sat down next to him and started rubbing his back comfortingly. "Nothing, Edward. I'm sure that nothing is wrong with you." She looked at Carlisle and suggested, "Perhaps we ought to tell him about our kind, dear."

Carlisle didn't say anything back as he sat down in the chair and thought hard. Something was at the tip of his mind; he just needed to figure it out. He kept seeing Italy in his mind, the sights and sounds of a plaza that his brain wouldn't let him name. Volterra, maybe? A figure seemed to loom in the mist of his memory, large and commanding. A man who had a knack for knowing everything about you… Aro.

He found himself smiling as he thought, _Can you hear me, Edward?_

Without lifting his head from his hands, Edward replied, "Of course I can Carlisle. Why wouldn't I be able to hear you?"

Esme was rather confused as her husband's smile widened, and then Edward said, "Oh." There was a pause before he spoke again. "That would be a great help, actually." They seemed to lapse into a silence, where Edward was looking intently at Carlisle, saying something every now and then. Esme left to give them privacy, fine with not knowing what was happening until they were ready to tell.

000

They decided to stay in Annecy for a further week or two. The house was far enough away from the city that they didn't need to worry about their new family member's hunger, and they told themselves that a sudden move would be suspicious, and that they ought to take it slowly. Edward knew they just didn't want to leave the place they loved, but he didn't feel the need to point their own motivation out to them.

Due to the fact that Edward would have to pass through the town to get to the hunting spot, he stayed behind while the others took large bottles with them, filling them up with blood then bringing them back to Edward. That is where all but Esme was today. Edward knew that they left behind one person to watch over him and make sure he didn't let his new born curiosity get him, or others, into danger.

Edward stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom uncertainly. He had officially been a vampire for four days, and he still wasn't used to his own reflection. From growing up, he learned the hard way that mirrors don't lie, but now he was sure this was all some elaborate rouse.

The face in the mirror was not his own. That face was beautiful and unreal in its perfection. His whole body was different. He had grown muscle, and didn't look frail and incapable of holding himself up. His hair had grown back on his head, thick and as copper colored as the rest of it. His eye no longer sagged, but, when he forgot for a moment about his new changes, he felt as though his eye was going down again, that the magic spell was wearing off and he was going to turn back into his old self.

While he was contemplating his new life, Esme was pacing in the hallway, deciding if she should go in or not. She wanted to talk to the boy desperately, but she didn't want him to feel pressed or awkward. Esme had just about made up her mind to leave when the door cracked open and she saw Edward, fidgeting with the hem of the shirt she had bought him in town. "Yes, Esme?" he inquired politely.

She knew that he was only asking for her sake, for he already knew what she wanted, and she smiled at his consideration. "Edward, I was wondering if you wanted anything in particular for the new house." At his blank stare, she continued, "I for one can't consider a house a home without a garden, and Carlisle likes to have a large study. I know that Rosalie has wanted a new vanity, and Emmett has requested some new board games. Do you want anything dear?"

Edward had not been confused by the question so much as the context. No one had really considered his opinion in…well, anything. He could only stutter a while before managing to get out the words he wanted. "A piano, if you don't mind. I know that they are terribly expensive, so I won't really mind if you don't want-"

"You play?" she cut him off. "That is _wonderful_! We haven't heard any decent music for the longest time! Oh, I will have to send out for one immediately! Now, tell me Edward, do prefer black, white, or a nice cherry wood, because I know that any one of those will look nice with the idea I have for designing the new-" She stopped when she saw Edward's odd expression. She reached out and took his hand in hers, asking, "What's wrong sweetheart? Did I say anything that insulted you?"

"No!" exclaimed Edward. "Not at all! I'm just… not…_used_ to people as nice and kind as you and your family are. It means a lot."

At seeing his hopelessly sad but thankful expression, she felt like crying. Esme enveloped the tall boy in a hug and, in a voice choked with emotion, murmured, "What a life you must have had Edward. Would you feel better if you talked about it?" Again, she didn't want to intrude on his life, but she felt so awful for him. Why was he in the circus? How was his face the way it was? What had happened to his _parents_?

Edward made a snorting sound and walked from the door way to collapse in a chair at the end of the hall. "My parents?" Esme mentally hit her self on the head; she still wasn't properly used to speaking to a mind reader. "Do you really want to hear?" he asked. She nodded and he continued saying, "Excuse me if I may appear bitter, then. I haven't tried to think of these things for quite some time, and I fear I still didn't resolve my problems toward my parents.

"I don't know exactly where I was born, except that there were beautiful rolling hills around our small town. My mother and father loved each other very much; it seemed like they were one person instead of two. Always Edward _and_ Elizabeth, never Edward_ or_ Elizabeth. They had always hoped for a healthy boy to continue my father's firm, not _me_. I know this because they constantly told me."

He was silent for several moments, his face lost in thought. Then, the sad expression became one of anger and he erupted, "My first gift was a mask! My parents never had company visit, _just_ because of my face! I was alone – _isolated_ – with only my mother and father as company. I had to watch their disgusted pity as they looked at me everyday of my life. It was torture, _knowing_ that they only kept me out of obligation, not love.

"Then my father died when I was twelve, and my mother was heartbroken. She started to hate me then," he said this last part matter-of-factly, as though it was nothing out of the ordinary. "It was like one side of me looked exactly like my father, while the other was a monster. It drove her insane, I think, to see a man she had loved so much mocked by the hideousness it must reside beside.

"So, one night, she brought me to the circus. She had said it was a present for doing so well on my music scales, and I _believed_ her." He barked a sharp laugh and looked harshly at his hands, which were now folded into tight fists. "I thought that we could _finally_ be a family. But instead of going to the seats, my mother brought me to the backstage, to that man… She exchanged a few words with him, he handed her some money, and she left. Just…_left_; not even a glance back. I'd been there ever since; the only thing that I had of theirs was the burlap sack that was my mask."

Edward got up and walked over to the window, looking out over the snowy stillness that surrounded him. "I," he spoke softly, "have often wondered about the power of masks. They can hide and strengthen, or weaken and disable. That mask left me with an escape from the jeering and mockery. I didn't know whether to thank them for providing me with an escape or curse them for making me believe that only a mask would take away all my problems.

"Sometimes I think that _this_," he pointed to his own face, "is only a mask. Underneath it all, I still feel the infection that I was born with, waiting for when the mask will slip off, the beauty melt away, for it to resurface once more." He sighed, the sigh of those world wearied and tired. All the sadness in the world seemed to be in that one simple exhale of breath.

Esme, feeling the tenderness that is specifically reserved for a mother when worried about her own dear children, touched his arm and put on her most comforting smile. "It is all over, Edward. You need not worry for what had happened; just know that we are your family now, and we care for you deeply. Come, now, give me that beautiful smile of yours."

Edward smiled and hugged her. He asked her if he could call her mother, and listened to her sweet and excited thoughts. She _did _want him, and she _did_ care for him. She barely knew this mysterious boy, but she already loved him like a son. She believed that he would overcome his past.

Edward didn't think it would be that easy.

000

The months passed by in a flash of moving and training until it was already November. Edward, bound to the house without any chance besides hunting of going outside, stared moodily out the window of the library at the violent bursts of color crowning the tall tree trunks. There was a barely heard shuffle of feet and he turned to see Carlisle, standing in the doorway and holding a stack of books he had meant to put back on the shelves in his hands. He saw Edward's frustration and felt guilty; he couldn't leave the house though, he wasn't ready to be exposed to human blood, he had to do it slowly and surely like they were training him to do. _I am sorry Edward, but we must make no room for error. _

Edward turned and faced his adoptive father. He respected and admired him, it was impossible not to with his accomplishments, but he had been growing a resentment toward him. Edward knew it was unjustified, the man had saved him from a death in a life he hated, but he couldn't stop himself as he asked, "You had told me, the night you changed me, that I was going to live when I became a vampire; that I would be free of the cage."

Carlisle didn't know how else to respond but, _Yes, I remember._

Edward's tick of suddenly changing his mood kicked in and he was furious now, wringing his hands and growling out his words. "What you didn't tell me was that I would leave one cage only to be put in another! Instead of bars, there are wooden walls covered in delicate wallpaper, but the confinement is the same! Am I not trustworthy enough? And don't go on about how I'm not ready or how I will hurt someone! I have been tested and tested by the temptation of human blood without one slip-up." He seemed to be searching for some confirmation that he was doing alright, that he wasn't stuck in this eternal rut of waiting. "Don't I deserve _freedom_?"

"Edward," Carlisle tried to explain, "we-" but his son was already turning left and heading toward the front door.

"I'm just fulfilling what you had promised me," Edward stated rather sadly before stepping outside, "I'm not going to waste." Then he shut the door, closing it on the guilt-ridden man standing in the empty corridor.

Walking swiftly toward town, Edward didn't bother to feel regret for what he had done. The air seemed clearer now, the world purer, when he wasn't constantly under the watchful gazes of his family. Everything smelled better now, the flowers were delicate and sweet, the pines strong in their musk. He was so distracted by the wondrous nature around him that he didn't quite recognize the people in the approaching street.

It was Edward's first time being this close to humans unescorted. After his change, his family had immediately started training him by bringing in vials of blood or bloody bandages that Carlisle had managed to sneak away from the hospital. It smelled less appetizing than fresh blood did, but it was a good starter. Edward speedily mastered his control and was moved on to walking, closely followed by Carlisle or Rosalie, around the perimeter of the town. Then, only three times, Carlisle and Esme had led him through the center of the town, at slow times of the day, when there were few people wondering the streets. Edward's iron will proved vital in this test of control and he was able to restrain himself. Human blood had not yet touched the young man's lips.

But now, he didn't have the comforting presence of someone who would stop him if he loses control. He was alone under the streetlights of a somewhat full square. Then, all of a sudden, the scents hit him. They seemed to dance and swell around his senses, going from his nose to his throat, making it itch in thirst, making his vision blur and his ears practically sing with the potency. It came to a point where he swore he could actually _feel_ it playing at his fingertips.

Then there were the voices; it was largest group Edward had ever been in this close up. Instead of the far off roar with only a few standing out, he could hear all the individual thoughts and images flitting about people's minds perfectly.

The overwhelming sensory overload made him stop in his tracks, uncertain as to whether he ought to continue on or turn tail and run. The latter was growing more and more tempting, but his stubborn pride forced him to put one foot in front of the other until he was on the sidewalk, attracting attention for his odd expression and sudden appearance.

It took every ounce of Edward's control not to harm those around him; his fists were clenched tight and he wasn't breathing, but he had not attacked. When he should have blocked out the thoughts, he listened to them, gathering proof that they were humans with lives and homes and families that would miss them. It helped calm the bloodlust inching its way further into his brain.

When he thought he would be alright, the weather took a turn and a mighty wind blew through the square to where Edward was standing, bringing all the scents to his face, delicious and enticing. Before he lost himself, Edward dived into the nearest shop, closing the door behind him in a hurry.

A musty smell wafted up to his grateful nose and inhaled deeply. There was only one human here, in a back room wondering where he had left his glasses, and Edward was thankful. It almost lunchtime, so if he waited here for an hour or so he could, while they were all eating at their homes, avoid a crowd of people. With the end of today's adventures in his head, Edward turned to the shelves and found that it was a pawnshop, filled with odds and ends from all over the place.

For the next half hour, Edward wondered the small store completely uninterrupted. He suspected the owner didn't expect customers in the afternoon, for either early mornings or late evenings were the busiest times, and didn't want to leave the backroom. Edward had been attempting to read a novel, but something kept drawing his eyes up from the small print.

It was a mask.

It hung on a hook toward the back of the store, glimmering faintly in the low light of the cloudy afternoon. The half mask was a dusty gray, adorned by red roses painted in the corner. Edward walked steadily over to it, as if he were in a trance, and held it gently in his hands.

He was about to place it on his face when the bell jingled at the door. Turning on his heel, Edward found himself in the presence of a delectable smelling scent in the close confines of the small store. He was caught so off guard, he couldn't control his basic instincts as they moved his body.

In no time at all, he had a middle-aged woman pinned to the wall. She was gibbering and sobbing, "Please, don't kill me! I have children that need me," in his ear as he lowered his lips to her slender neck…

_Oh, how did I become prey to this monster,_ her thoughts asked over and over until all she could think was, _Monster, monster, monster!_

Edward froze. He had known that was what he thought of himself, but to be called so by a woman, his _victim_, shook his self justification to the core. He _was_ a monster; a horrid, evil beast that has no right to be satisfying his own needs by taking away from another.

As the owner of the store was attempting to open the door out of the backroom to see what the screaming was, Edward let the woman slide to the floor in a crying heap. When the owner finally _did_ manage to get out, all he saw was her pointed wildly toward the swinging door and shouting incoherently through her tears.

The people on the streets felt a strong gust of wind and wondered what had happened to the weather as Edward sprinted full speed past them, completely invisible to the inattentive pedestrians. He continued running until he was free of the town and in the familiar surroundings of the forest. There, where only the trees could judge him, he unleashed the monster inside of him and took his fill from three bucks who had had the misfortune of being in his vicinity.

Once finished, he noticed that he still had something in his hand; the mask. His earlier words surfaced to his head at that moment, retelling him of the power of masks. Edward saw two options in his future:

One, he could give up right now. Throw away any chance of redemption and do what he had been wishing since his own mother abandoned him to the cruel and pitiless treatment of the circus workers; die. He wasn't sure how, Carlisle had told him of his countless attempts of suicide, but Edward had also heard him think of the Volturi, who, if he persuaded them right, could do the deed for him. All his pains and failings could melt away…he would be free.

Two, he could persevere. Edward could claim the life he never got and strive for things he had never even dreamed of. Suicide would be cowardly, but struggling through, and overcoming, the difficulties would be worth every second of pain he had been through in his miserable life. He could become something great, truly great, and be someone looked up to, not sneered down upon.

Edward looked down at the mask in his hands and there became no choice. This was to be a mask of power, not spinelessness. He slowly placed it on and felt the confidence already pulse through him. Within the closed secrecy of the mask, he could overcome anything. He looked over the hill, past the trees, to the town. He wasn't going to be afraid, as he had been before. Now, he will be sure and dedicated.

Edward smiled, and it felt like the first true smile he had ever had; cities would fall to that smile. His demeanor had changed, he held himself with a sureness that only those of royalty had ever tried to muster. His almost topaz eyes glinted, and felt that, as Esme had thought before, that he could get over his past.

The wind picked up again, and in its icy quickness it carried words from the young man's mouth, bringing them out of the maze of trees and to the open air, where they dispersed and spread, bringing with them a feeling that can never truly be described. The words whispered, for all or none to hear, a divine testimony to the power and strength of the mind and heart. Softly ringing with their own loveliness, in a soft, velvet voice, the words announced, "I will live."


	14. Trickery

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed; I love seeing that people like what I write, and I was kind of iffy about whether or not anyone would like the last chapter, so it meant a lot that you guys did.**

**Okay, down to business: There is only the epilogue left (I know, so sad) and because I don't like all the room it's taking up, I'm taking down the casting in my profile. Just a warning in case you think the website's playing mind games with you or something.**

**Disclaimer: ****I own this like Alex Trebek knows all the actual answers on Jeopardy. Exactly, I don't and he reads queue-cards.**

* * *

Trickery

Paris, 1870

_I'm in Hell,_ Jessica concluded desperately. All of her senses seemed to scream the truth of that near impossible assumption as well. Fire was raging all around, smoke rising through the stifling heat, making it impossible to see. She could hear shrieks and cries weaving in and out of the roar of splintering wood and crackling flames. Something beside her erupted into fire, and she stumbled away blindly, coughing uncontrollably from the smoke in her face.

She wanted to think this through rationally, but when your whole body is _sure_ that you have died when the chandelier crashed its hard not to listen. Half her mind was crying out in repentance for her past sins, praying that God could find it in his heart to give her a second chance, despite her envious and prideful nature.

The other half, though, was rebelling against her superstitious fancies. _It's just the fire from the fall of the chandelier,_ she told herself. _I am still on the stage. It must have been the curtain that caught fire just moments ago_. Jessica wanted desperately to believe this as she stumbled trying to find her way backstage, but her mind was distorting the objects around her, turning them into ghouls and hobgoblins.

In her mind, she pictured the fire escape door she had been seeing for years, the one that led to the alley at the left of the opera. She was pretty positive that she could find her way; there was less smoke backstage, but if she took a wrong step, she could lose her life. With all her caution, though, she didn't notice the hunched over figure on the ground until she tripped over it.

"_Mph!_" a muffled voice sounded. "_Humph! Meshicah! Humph!_" Jessica, terrified and ready to bolt, tentatively shuffled over to the figure, imagining awful things, like demons and monsters that would lurk in the shadows. Her fingers shook as they reached out and came in contact with a squirming body that was undeniably human. The smoke cleared some and she realized it was none other than Michael Newton, bound and gagged on the floor.

She started to feel relief, but then the seriousness of the situation took over her thoughts as a distant part of the ceiling fell, reminding her of the danger. By instinct, her hands shot out and began to try and work out the knots around the man's wrists. They were tight and complicated, but Jessica had spent a large part of her life untangling intertwined necklaces, ribbons, and corset strings. The fire was growing larger and approaching quickly, but she didn't let the pressure work its way into her mind. _It's just another scrap of ribbon_, she tried to assure herself. With a ribbon, she didn't have to worry about saving someone's life, let alone the life of a man she…well, she could think of that later.

With a will no one would have thought belonged to the delicate "La Carlotta," the simple, non-Spanish Jessica steadied her soon-to-be shaking hands and freed the trapped man. Michael, who had been eyeing the flames that were inching closer, could have cried in relief. He got up shakily, his lower extremities lacking the blood they needed. He felt Jessica grab his hand and start to pull him in a direction he didn't even care to know; all he could think of was how lovely it was to have her hand in his own.

An unfamiliar feeling rushed into his heart. In its presence, all the horrors around the two seemed dimmed down and less important; it was crazy, but they felt…safe.

Jessica was right about the door, and they jogged up the alley out to the front of the opera, where others who had escaped and curious passersby had gathered to watch. They could hear the incessant buzz of people regaling their tragic stories; about how they escaped and who had not had the fortune to. Jessica surveyed the crowd and surmised that perhaps a dozen or so was missing. She had had an eye for judging full houses, but not any more, she thought. Opera was getting tired; she wanted to do something more worthwhile to her. Maybe she could start a family…

Mike led her to a bench on the other side of the street and held Jessica close, brushing her curls out of her face and murmuring sweet things in her ear. He thought she would be devastated by seeing her home burn, but she truly felt elated. This fire had opened up her eyes and shown her what was important.

Jessica nestled her head into his chest, and they watched their pasts burn along with the opera house.

000

"…We moved around then; going to Italy and America. After I had expressed a wish to come back to France, Carlisle and Esme were kind enough to move the family here, where I could enjoy the music I loved.

"Jasper joined us only a few years ago; he had been changed in the Mexican war and after years of depression he wanted to live differently, to not hurt humans. He met a family like mine in Denali, Alaska, and they helped him through his struggles. When he wanted a change of scenery, they suggested our family, and he's been with us ever since."

The silence that followed Edward's amazing and heartbreaking monologue sounded complete, like nothing could interrupt it. Bella had managed to say nothing the whole time, only emitting a gasp or, when she discovered she was crying, a pathetic sniffle. They had stopped walking and Edward was patiently waiting for some reply from his love.

It surprised him when she threw herself into his arms and grasped him tightly around the back of his neck. Her voice was muffled as she said, "Oh, Edward, what a life you had to live. I don't know if I could ever be as good as you deserve." She tilted her head up and looked him in the eyes. "You are too good and strong and selfless, and I am just so _proud_ of you." She felt rather silly saying that though, like she was his mother, not his fiancée.

The thought of his mother brought fire in her eyes and her face twisted in anger suddenly, "How could she do that to you?" she exploded. "I am just furious with your mother, Edward. I want nothing more than to give her a piece of my mind!" She blushed as she realized what she had said and continued to babble, "It's just, well, that it seems insane to not want _you_. Face or no face, Edward, you are the most amazing person I have ever known, and someone should be thanking God that they have you in their life, not scorning you." She opened her mouth to say more, and dig herself into a deeper hole of stuttering, but Edward kissed her, taking away all other feelings but love.

He pulled back but kept his forehead touching hers, still making her dizzy at the proximity. "You're wrong," he murmured gently. "You are _much better_ than I deserve." Edward felt happier than ever; it seemed that the old cliché, "the truth will set you free," was actually true. He had this soaring feeling in his chest and a beautiful woman in his arms; nothing else was needed but his loving family around him, which, in a day's time, he would have.

"I love you Bella," he said, every feature in his perfect face seeming to shine the certainty of that statement. "I -" he stopped suddenly, his soft expression now turned worried. Edward cocked his head to the side and listened intently, trying to find that one voice again. Now, with almost everyone outside the opera, the people's thoughts that were left sounded loud and clear, and he could easily hear something from ahead of him and Bella.

_- like fire, burning and torturing and oh make it stop please oh please make this all stop - _

_He must be in so much pain, but we need to continue; it's almost over, please be over._

_They are almost here, when will the change end? She can't take _that_ long to-_

Bella jumped back as Edward's eyes turned a murderous black. "It can't be…" he growled before he faced Bella again. "Something has gone wrong, Bella. It involves Alice, Jasper, and…a vampire who had once visited my family. He is not like us; he drinks _human_ blood, and he has started something which I fear we cannot stop." He grabbed her hand and in an instant threw her on his back. "Hold on and close your eyes; we'll have to run." Bella did as he said and wondered what could have happened to her best friend.

000

"_Take one last breath, Alice; it will never be the same again."_

In the darkness, that was all that reverberated in Alice's mind. As if to test it, she took a breath, but couldn't remember how it ought to feel in the first place. Her violet eyes were now a startling red, and they opened to see a dark cavern furnished with fine furniture and instruments.

She sat up and felt her face, the features sharp and angular, her hair short and a deep inky black. She felt something scratching at the back of her head; something…gold. Yes, it was golden. She wanted desperately to remember something, but this conquered all. Confused and unsatisfied, she looked down at herself in horror. The dress she was wearing, which must have been very fine, was in tatters, streaked with dirt and sweat and blood. It made her non-beating heart break at the sight. She found herself automatically wondering where a needle and thread were before it occurred to her that she couldn't remember if she could sew or not.

Alice, only knowing that was her name from that odd voice in her memory, got shakily to her feet and studied the room. Again, there was that itching sensation of her needing to know something. Was this always how it had been before- Before what? Why did she think there was something before this, right now?

She closed her eyes on instinct and watched as a scene that had not happened yet played out in her mind. When it was finished, she thought, without being aware of it at first, _This is the price; your past to see the future._ But she didn't understand what it meant. Her past meant nothing to her; all she knew at the moment was that her past started several minutes ago, when she woke up. This seemed to sadden her as once more the thought of gold arose.

A delicious aroma came to her nose, and she took several steps forward until she was at the lip of the rock, close to the water's rippling edge. It was coming closer now, and Alice shifted her weight from foot to foot in anticipation. She could feel another vision, but she pushed it back impatiently. Nothing was going to keep her from seeing what made this smell. Her throat itched in thirst.

A shape came rocketing around a concealed walkway on the side of the wall before it jumped into the water, which was knee high on the person, and came to a slow near the rock. It was a man, tall and pale, seeming to glow from the reflection of the candle lights on the water. On his back was a girl, holding tightly with her face covered in long brown hair. Alice's first thought on her was how nice the dark blue dress looked with her pale skin; the second was that maddening aroma was coming from her.

The man called out to her, yelling, "Alice! Where is Jasper? Are you alri-" and then he stopped. In an instant, he was out of the water and on the other side of the room, the delicious girl hidden behind him. Alice growled in anger.

She heard the man whisper to the girl, "Stay here and try not to draw attention to yourself. She's a newborn now, and can't think of anything but the thirst." Then, slowly and menacingly, he crouched down in an obviously protective stance, growling and moving closer to the threat; Alice. He called her name in a soft voice before continuing, "She's your friend, remember? Your _best _friend actually. Bella was like a sister to you. You'd be devastated if you hurt her." He paused before asking incredibly, "You ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­_don't _remember, do you?"

Alice, tired and crazy of these words she didn't understand, cried out desperately, "Just _give_ me her! The _smell_!" She tried to run past the pale man, but he tackled her to the ground, pinning down her flailing hands and putting his weight on her. "Please," she pleaded, "I'll give you anything!" Her life seemed to hang on whether or not she would get to have that scent.

"No," sighed the man. It seemed to pain him to have to be near her while she screamed and raved.

Neither of the fighting vampires noticed as a third came out of the shadows and covered the delicious smelling girl's mouth, preventing her from screaming. "Come, come, my darling," whispered the new man's voice in Bella's ear. "We mustn't interrupt the fun. Let's leave them, shall we?" He grabbed her in his arms and disappeared.

000

Jacob sneaked past the ogling people outside Forks. While everyone was looking at the firemen trying to tame the raging flames, he slipped into the opera, holding his handkerchief over his face to block out the smoke. In his other hand was a map, detailing the twists and turns of secret hallways behind the unassuming walls. Monsieur Leroux had given this to him the other day, appearing in his home in the dead of night, covered in blood and talking quickly. "Follow what this says after the opera tomorrow. Don't be surprised if it is more… humid than you remember." Then he had disappeared, making Jacob wonder if he had dreamed it all in the first place.

Many things about James confused Jacob. How he seemed more like the employer than Jacob, the actual employer, was beyond his comprehension. This man was unstable and moral-less and dangerous. Just imagining his face made Jacob feel a shiver of fear go down his spine, and for that reason he had brought the knife with him. It is a simple hunting knife he had picked up in a store on the way to the opera, but it made him feel safe.

The firefighters were as good as there name, because Jacob could soon see clearly as the fire died down. The smoke lessened until he could put his handkerchief away once more as he entered what looked like a prop room behind stage. There was an arrow on the map, saying to pull a candelabrum on the wall at a specific spot, and, to his surprise, there actually was a candelabrum, and, when pulled, it caused a few stones in the wall to be moved aside, creating a small hole for a person to crawl through.

Eyeing the hole distrustedly, Jacob made up his mind quickly. He hadn't come all this way to be stopped now. He got down on his hands and knees, making sure to secure his knife, and went into the dark tunnel.

000

It was gone. The excruciating, skin burning, skull splitting pain was gone. Jasper swam to the top of the water with an ease that seemed unreal after his struggles. His mind was clear and he could now find James and get back to his Alice.

With such a beautiful thing as Alice in his future, Jasper started the struggle up the walls of the tunnel. He didn't do as Emmett had done. While Emmett haphazardly flung himself to spots he hoped a hold would be, Jasper slowly and methodically chose spots he _knew_ would hold him. Occasionally, there was a stone that was protruding _slightly_ more than the rest, and when you would put your weight on it, it would fall from its place, sending you plummeting to the ground. Jasper learned to avoid these after several unfortunate falls, cursing Edward for his ingenuity.

Closer to the top, handholds became even sparser, and he had to make holes if with his two fingers, grinding them into the stone, continuing his slow and patient inching upwards. His hands grasped the lip of the hole and he jumped upwards, swinging his legs around to the top. Though it was useless, he rung out his shirt, ignoring the fact that he was so wet it didn't even make a difference.

Forcing himself to spot berating his brother and start with the task at hand, he quickly focused on the feelings around him, trying to find his Alice. But she wasn't standing out in emotion anymore; the love that had clearly marked where she was had disappeared, and he felt his own heart twinge at what that could imply. Did she think differently now that she was a vampire?

Jasper remembered when he was a new born, how it was mostly a blur of hunger and want, and, as if his memory had brought it to him, he felt an intense thirst coming from a certain direction. The owner was also confused and frustrated, he found, making that his perfect candidate.

He ran through the passageways, following the hunger until his whole being was buzzing with it as well. No more traps were in his way and, when a large river loomed ahead of him, he had no scruples in throwing himself in water, swimming faster than anyone would have thought possible, leaving behind nothing but a splash and some rippling water.

He arrived at the multiple platforms soon enough. The person who possessed the thirst was here, he was sure of that, but with them was someone sad and worried. Pulling himself out of the water for the second time in the hour, Jasper stood up in a spectacular house. He saw beautiful furniture, instruments…and his brother and the love of his life fighting.

Jasper could only stand in his place for a moment; confused. Edward had Alice pinned down on the hard ground while she flailed and bit and screamed. His brother, apparently hearing Jasper's thoughts, raised his head and, after growing slightly guilty and pitying, said, "She can't remember anything Jasper." Edward slowly released Alice and stood back as Jasper approached her.

"Alice?" he whispered. "Don't you recognize me?" Seeing her blank stare, he added desperately, "I'm _Jasper_. _Jasper Whitlock Hale_" He felt his entire universe from all around him and sunk down to his knees, wishing for once that he could cry, for maybe it could release all this unbearable sadness inside him.

He barley noticed as Alice took a step forward, placing her hand on his golden hair. "Jasper?" she sighed to herself. The pure color of his hair registered in her vacant mind. The smell, she knew was gone from here, and not being in its presence helped her regain some of her sanity. She had seen this man in her vision, brave and determined he had acted when trouble came in their way, and she knew she _should_ be able to remember him. A part of her mind asked, _How could I forget such lovely golden hair and eyes?_

Alice gasped and stepped back. His eyes, she could picture them without even looking at him. How they had sparkled when he looked at her, twirling elegantly in a large ballroom. "Jasper!" She exclaimed as some fog cleared in her mind, showing Alice her sweet and caring Jasper and how they had loved each other so.

Hearing his name, Jasper looked up suddenly and saw his Alice, dirty and red-eyed, but as lovely as she had ever been. Simultaneously, they launched into each other's arms, laughing and saying the other's name over and over. Alice couldn't remember everything, but certain images stood out more clearly; a girl she recognized as the one that smelled delicious in a lovely dress, a bored and agitated look on her face, the ballet class and the dances that she loved, a man with red eyes who-

"James!" she yelled suddenly, disengaging herself from Jasper's arms. "He did this and we have to find him before he takes Bella like I had seen in my-"

"It's too late," came a dreary voice from the other side of the room. Edward was holding a piece of fabric; his cloak, which he had placed over Bella's shoulders to help disguise her scent. His voice rose in anger as he continued speaking, "He already has her, and if he does what he thinks he will do, there will be _Hell_ to pay!" He hit the wall beside him and a door appeared out of nowhere. He ran inside, only stopping to order, "Follow me," to the couple behind him before disappearing into the dark.

000

When they were far enough away from Edward's home, her kidnapper removed his hand from Bella's mouth. She immediately spat out, "What do you want with me?" Why, just when she had thought her and Edward could finally get their happily ever after, did everything have to go wrong. She tried to stop her thoughts from straying to the wild red eyes of her best friend. _What had happened to her?_ she thought sadly.

The man laughed and picked up his pace, dragging her along. "My dear Isabella, do you really think that I would fall for the classic blunder of a villain?" He smiled wickedly and raised a mocking eyebrow in her direction. "This isn't one of your books were I explain every inch of my plan in surprising detail. This is _real lif_e Bella," he asserted, his tone now harsh, "and you'll have to find out my plan your own way."

They walked on in silence, the man holding her captive weaved his way seamlessly through the dim passages. He took sharp lefts and hidden rights until he pulled her in front of a large wooden door imbedded into the stone wall. "This," spoke the man, "is where your precious Edward would take anyone who fell into his traps. The walls are five feet of solid stone reinforced with steel. The door is also several inches thick with a slab of steel in the center. For all of his simpering romantics, your Edward is quite the crafty one; he knew how to make an interrogation room, that's for sure."

There was a figure seated on the only piece of furniture in the small room. The many candelabras made his dark complexion seem even more filled with shadows. Bella recognized the vicomte instantly, but was too shocked by his obvious involvement in this ploy to speak.

"James?" questioned the boy in the corner, raising his head from where he had been resting it in his hands. He saw James, grinning like the devil himself, but he also saw the beautiful woman beside him; Bella. Jacob was about to call her name, to find a way to explain or reason, but her furious and betrayed expression made him shut his mouth with an audible _click_. He mentally changed direction and asked James, "What about the vampire?"

"Oh," smirked James, "he's dealing with a little…complication he wasn't expecting. But," he checked his watch briefly, "if the fellow who got caught in the trap climbs out soon, he might be able to assist him. I expect they will join us shortly; I can take care of them from there." James chuckled quietly to himself at the confused faces of the two humans before continuing. "That doesn't mean we can't enjoy the time we have left together, though." He leaned against the wall casually and looked expectantly from Jacob to Bella.

After several moments of agonizing silence, the vicomte cleared his throat and tried to explain, "Bella, please, it was for the best. He's a mon-" he stopped at her icy glare. She turned away and he could only study her profile, trying to remember the slope of her nose, the shape of her mouth. He was unconsciously preparing for when she would leave him forever, and he stopped his task abruptly, thinking, _She will leave me forever, to be with _him. _Always him, never me. Always him, never me. Always him, never me. _That phrase tortured him, making his jealousy more searing, his insanity more in control.

"_How_?" he cried suddenly. "How can you love a monster so willingly, so completely? How can a _vampire_ deserve your heart when _I_ am left only scorn and disgust?" He had shot up from his chair in his rage, sending it clattering across the stone floor. A distant part of his mind was surprised to find that he was shaking all over from the sheer force of restraining his urge to hit the rock walls or throw the chair across the small length of the room.

Bella saw the ferocity of his action out of the corner of her eye and was unwillingly frightened. She had no Edward to protect her here and she had to step lightly. Hoping to divert his attention, she said, in a cold and indifferent voice, "It seems to me, Jacob, that you aren't as opposed to the company of vampires as you say you are." She then turned her gaze to the smiling James, still leaning against the wall.

Jacob followed her pointed stare and got the meaning behind her words, but he didn't believe it. He faced toward the man and started stuttering, "But J-James, you _hunt _vampires, you can't _be _one!" He took several steps to the man he had trusted and studied his face. He hadn't noticed until now, but his tinted glasses were off, and in the bright candlelight he saw the glinting red eyes. Like blood they seemed to swirl and shine in the man's face. Jacob's own dark eyes strayed down the man's face to his smiling teeth, and how they looked too sharp, too much like a predator's in the flickering light. Then the glowing pale skin caught his eye, like marble it seemed smooth and impenetrable. Terror gripped the young vicomte's heart and he stumbled back again to the corner, tripping over the chair that had fallen over.

"Why?" he hoarsely called. "You pretended to be something that you are not and lured me here under false pretences. Why go through the trouble when you could have easily taken me when I called on your house?"

James pushed himself off the wall and strode slowly to where Jacob was shaking on the ground. "Amusement, really," was his reply before banging could be heard from the other side of the door. "Now, fun and games are over; for _you_ that is. _My_ fun has just begun." He smiled wickedly and sniffed the air delicately. "Hmm, I'm sorry to say this to you vicomte, but the lady over there has much sweeter smelling blood then you could ever hope to have. I fear she is just too delectable to wait for."

Jacob watched in horror as the monster approached Bella, his beloved angel. His heart and pulse sped up and James's slow and menacing walk seemed to become a snail's pace to Jacob's raging mind. Half of him declared that she _ought_ to die; women who betrayed and beguiled were worth nothing in this world. It told him that she _deserved_ it after what she had done to him, that after she chose that monster she was damned, no excuses.

But he loved her, his other half screamed out, rebelling against the once-thought-comforting voice. He told himself that he just wanted her to be happy, that he could live with her being with someone else, but he couldn't live with knowing he had been the cause for her destruction.

Jacob felt as though he were being split in two and that the dark, oily, smirking part of his mind was slowly and surely winning. His own real self was only a flicker now, being lost in the despair and heartbreak. Jacob gasped for breath, sure that this struggle was cutting off air somewhere in his body, suffocating him. The fruitless thumping continued on the door and Jacob thought it would kill him with the maddening echoes it made in the small room.

He looked at the scene in front of him as it seemed to speed back up and he realized his decision was made as his hand automatically reached into his waistcoat to where his knife was concealed. He gripped its smooth handle and ran the sharp blade along his arm.

As the deep red blood started running down the vicomte's arm, everything froze.

The thumping on the door stopped and their was a deafening sound of crushing rock and twisting steel before a beautiful girl was crouching in the room with them, a giant hole in the wall behind her showed two men peering in the room with amazement on their faces. Through his fear, Jacob could recognize the three newcomers easily; Alice, Monsieur Hale, and …Edward.

In the next moment Alice tried to launch herself at Jacob, but James, not wanting anyone to steal his meal, growled loudly and threw himself at her, throwing both of them to the ground. They struggled, but Alice seemed to be the one of superior strength, her blood red eyes continually darting over to where Jacob stood, petrified.

He wanted desperately to run, but he remained where he was, his arm bleeding profusely now, waiting for one of the vampires to take him. A distant, unattached, part of his mind wondered over the fact that Alice and Monsieur Hale were vampires at all; they had seemed so nice, but, he supposed, now thinking back at James, that looks could be deceiving.

The other two vampires entered in, Jasper trying to help Alice in her struggles, Edward moving toward Bella in a purely protective stance. Jasper stopped a moment to yell to Edward, _Run! Take Bella and the vicomte and run!_

Edward looked to Jacob, bleeding and scared in the corner of the room, and tried to feel the same dislike he had for him before, but his selflessness in buying time made it hard to do anything but respect him. He ran over to him and offered his hand, the vicomte eyeing it untrustworthily. "Please," Edward sighed. "I'm here to help." After a moment of indecision, Jacob Black took a hold on his enemy's hand and held tight as he dragged him and Bella out of that accursed room.

Edward steeped away from the hole into his interrogation room so he wouldn't have to see what was happening inside, signaling to the others to do the same. They listened in silence as screams escaped the room, followed by the crackling of fire as the candelabras fell to the ground with a clattering racket. After several minutes, smoke was pouring heavily out of the room and Jasper and Alice stepped out. The bleeding had stopped, but Alice still had to hold her breath and be held back by Jasper, who was calming her as much as he could.

Jasper whispered briefly to Alice and turned to the awkward group of three across from them. "Alice and I will wait at your house, Edward. If you don't mind, that is. She doesn't think she can handle being around an open wound like that. Edward nodded and the pair passed, though not before Alice reached out and gently took Bella's hand in her own, mouthing "sorry" quickly before disappearing down the hall.

Bella had instinctively moved into Edward's comforting embrace and seeing them together like they were, seeing the love in every unconscious movement, made Jacob's heart ache. He even waited for that other voice to take over; the one that had driven him insane, but it didn't. He mentally sighed in relief; it was gone, he could be himself.

The jealously was still there, everywhere really, but in that small room he had realized that he would much rather have Bella happy with someone else than suffering near him. With more will power than a normal person possessed, Jacob raised his head to look the monster…or Edward…in the eyes. "Go," he said softly, his throat already becoming hoarse. "Go and take care of each other. Love one another."

Bella found tears gathering in her eyes. She walked slowly up to Jacob and kissed his cheek softly. "Thank you," she whispered. And he watched them walk away hand in hand, whispering promises and declarations into each other's ears, feeling their happy love and hating him for letting her go.

Jacob pulled the map once more out of his pockets, thinking over words he had heard Edward say once_. "Leave Paris and find a new life, one without memories to mar your future. Forget Forks, forget me, and definitely forget _her_, or else you will have many a sleepless night ahead of you. Trust me in nothing but that." _That velvet voce echoed in his mind and he wondered if he could ever do that; forget Bella.

_No_, he thought_, but I can take solace in the fact that she's happy_. And he was right in that if nothing else.

000

"How is he, Edward? Do you think he will be fine?"

Edward looked down at her sweet face, seeing her worry though she tried to hide it. "Yes, I really do." He listened to the boy's thoughts as he exited out one of the opera doors, pretending to have been caught in the fire and hurt his arm in a fall. "He will move on, but part of him will never forget you, though."

Bella looked down at her feet and sighed unhappily. "I hope he finds someone to make him as happy as you have made me; he deserves that at least." She held his hand tighter and smiled. "Are we leaving now? Finally?"

Edward laughed at her impatience as he opened a door that led to his study. "Yes, finally." He got a soft look in his eyes as he looked down into her face. "Now we are free to start a new life together." He picked her up in his arms suddenly and twirled her around, making her laugh in surprise. "I love you Bella; always and forever." He brought his lips down to hers carefully, but passionately.

They heard someone cough from the other side of the room, and Bella blushed when she saw Jasper and Alice, smiling happily by each other's side. Bella looked at her friend with wonder, "Alice, you look beautiful, but that dress!" They all laughed as Alice grumbled and muttered, "Don't rub it in." Seeing and hearing the people around her was bringing back a little more of her memory and, though she still had Jasper continuously calming her down, knowing who Bella was made it easier to deal with the thirst.

Edward set Bella down and walked over to the tapestries on the wall, pulling one down to reveal a mirror. It reflected the four beautiful faces back at the owners and they stared at the picture of them together for a moment. "Are you," Edward announced with a flourish, "ready to start our new lives?" The other three cheered and clapped as Edward brought his fist in contact with the glass, making it shatter into little pieces and revealing a hidden hallway behind it. Edward looked over to his sweet Bella and looked into her soft eyes, like looking into his future, "Then let's start them."

The four stepped through one at a time; on their way to freedom. To love.

To life.


	15. Epilogue: Two Angels

**Disclaimer: Well, I guess this is the last time I'll have to say, "I don't own _Twilight_ or _Phantom of the Opera." Finally._**

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Epilogue: Two Angels

Paris, 1919

It was late afternoon when a stately black car rolled to a stop on the gravel road of the cemetery. The chauffer pulled a wheelchair out of the trunk and unfolded it in front of the elderly man leaning against the car door. Once he was safe in his chair, the vicomte de Black pulled a large box into his lap, looking reflectively at the two figurines. His nurse already knew where to go, and she pushed him through the maze of tombstones and honorary statures and urns until they were there, in front of the grave marked:

Isabella Swan

September 13, 1852 – April 21, 1870

As with every visit here, Jacob felt his heart twinge at the sight. They had assumed, all those years ago, after the fire, that she had been caught in the blaze and burnt alive along with seventeen other missing audience members. There had been rumors that the poor opera singer had run off with a mysterious man who had sung in _Èclipse _with her, but what was rest of the audience were too tired, too _traumatized_, to recall correctly. Some still heard the call of a velvet voice, though, deep in their dreams, yelling "_Run! __If you value your lives run! LEAVE!" _before it was shattered by the crash of that fated chandelier. Memories can haunt much more persistently than any would believe; Jacob knew that through experience.

Unable to find her body, but desperate to put her tragic mystery to rest, the ruined owners of Forks, Messieurs Clapp and Banner, had paid for the large white marble tombstone and funeral service before returning to scrap metal with a sigh of relief.

Jacob had stood through the service wondering all the time where she was now, at this moment. Was she with him? Did she regret leaving? Would anything have changed if he hadn't told her to go? But all the questions remained unanswered. He'd try not to think about her, tried to busy himself with other activities, but every time he'd wonder odd in his mind, usually during idle hours when there was no work or help to be done, he'd catch himself humming a tune to one of the songs from an opera she sang.

No longer able to bear the brunt of his emotional ghosts, the vicomte gave up on patronizing the arts. He secluded himself to his estate and forbade all visitors, stewing in his misery for months. On his first excursion to the outside world after his self-confinement, he seemed to think the world too bright, too boisterous. His experience with the opera house had changed him forever.

But eventually he grew tougher, lost his childish heartache and put all his energy into his duties as the vicomte. He found he could speak to people again, smile again and, to his astonishment, love again. It seemed that time healed all wounds, and Jacob didn't know if he should feel happy for it or not.

Her name was Sarah Daniels, and she was introduced to the vicomte at a gala for some obscure cause he couldn't remember. After several meeting, he found that he loved her; not the fast paced, heart-pounding love, but a slow, sweet love that took over his heart. The sight of her deep red hair, delicately curling down her back, made him smile wider and her ever patient and compassionate care made him feel complete. They married after a year long courtship and had three children.

Jacob was…_happy_.

Soon he could remember without his heart breaking in two. Soon he came to think of Bella as a sweet friend, a past love. Soon it stopped hurting, and thinking of her only brought thoughts of the good times, not the bad.

But with his acceptance of her new life, came the yearning. He _missed_ her. He had thrown away everything that reminded him of her years ago, and now memories were all that was left; and even memories fade. When he couldn't recall the color of her eyes is when Jacob started his whole crusade. He had heard of the auction and went as quickly as he could, not knowing what to expect. But he had found more than he had hoped for; something that was lying in his lap right now.

The vicomte managed to struggle out of his wheel chair and set the box down on the grave that wasn't really a grave. Now he could remember that her eyes were brown, chocolate brown, and he whispered to the grave, "I wish you the best; wherever you are." His nurse helped him back in the chair and started pushing him to the car once more.

When they were out of sight, a pair of pale hands reached down and picked the box up from the grave. They held it to the owner's chest as a lovely woman's voice said, "I remember this Edward. You made it, and… and my ring was in it. I had forgotten how beautiful it is…" The voice tapered off as she looked thoughtfully from the box to her ring before turning he little knob on the side of the box gently, letting a very familiar melody out.

She set it down on the tombstone with her old name on it and turned to the young man that was standing behind her. "Dance with me?" She smiled sweetly and held out her arms beseechingly.

"How can I resist?" he replied before he swept her up in a revolving waltz. They danced in silence, letting the song wind its way around them both.

The girl seemed to think of something because she frowned, her brow wrinkling. "What is wrong, my love?" asked the boy, his face turning worried.

"Jacob…I don't really remember him. Just when we were little and he saved my scarf and when he last said goodbye at the opera." She looked at the boy, a slightly desperate expression on her face. "Is this all? Beginnings and endings? What will happen when I can't even remember meeting _you_? Will it be like with Alice, how she has those lapses where she can't remember _anything_ before she was changed? Her memory goes quicker than any of ours did, but she doesn't seem bothered; she has Jasper and it seems like she lives more in the future than the present. I don't think I'm strong enough for that…"

The boy lifted her chin so she'd look him in the eyes and stroked her hair. "I guess I'll just have to remind you then, shouldn't I?" He kissed her sweetly before pulling back and resuming their dance. "Would you like to hear?" She nodded excitedly and he started, "_Jessica was on a rampage. This was to be expected as an everyday event that you could practically set your watch on_…"

000

Driving away from the cemetery, Jacob looked out his window and, between the spaces of the tombstones, he thought he could see two pale figures, a tall boy with auburn hair and a short girl with long cascading brown hair, both as beautiful as angels, waltzing in the graveyard to a phantom melody.

But he probably just imagined it.

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**Aww, I'm so sad it's over. I have a new big time story in the works, so when I get that ironed out, you can look for it. As always, thanks for reading.**


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